F 
157 












OLD TIMES 
OILDOM 






Class _ 
Book_.Ol 



-U 




GEORGE W. BROWN. 



Old Times in Oildom 



By 
Geo. W. Brown 



Being a Series of Chapters in which are 

Related the Writer's Many Personal 

Experiences, During Fifty 

Years of Life in the 

Oil Regions. 



FOR SALE BY GEO. W. BROWN, 
YOUNGSVILLE, PA. 



1909: 

Derrick Publishing Compant, 

Oil City, Pa. 






DiQ ai'909 



Preface. 

I wish to say to my readers that I have but two rea- 
sons for writing this Httle book. The first reason is that 
eleven articles were written to the Oil City Derrick, some 
years ago, in the way of correspondence. Then I was 
requested by the business manager of The Derrick Pub- 
lishing Company, J. N. Perrine, to write more about 
"Old Times in Oildom." He explained that they would 
gladly publish it in book form. 

My second reason is that I wish to enlighten the 
present generation regarding the many points of differ- 
ence between the present time and fifty or seventy-five 
years ago. 

It seems to me to be the duty of those who saw these 
great changes to hand them down to present and future 
generations — to those who can never know these things 
first hand. You will by reading this book learn that it is 
not a book of fiction, with a single thread running 
through all of it. Dozens and dozens of different little 
stories will be found in these brief touches on the history 
of the progress of our great country and state, and doz- 
ens of names of worthy but almost forgotten people will 
be found here. 

The reader should thoroughly understand that the 
first eleven chapters of this book were written in 1896- 
1897. The additional chapters were written in 1909. 

G. W. BROWN- 
Youngsville, Pa., July, 1909. 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



CHAPTER I. 



HAULING OIL ON SLEDS. 



Coleman & Batchelor have just com- 
menced a 'five years' lumber job at the 
"old Pennsylvania house," four miles be- 
low Irvineton. One peculiarity about this 
business is the fact that the saw mill is 
on the west side of the Allegheny river, 
and the shingle mill is on the east side 
of the river. A tramway is being built 
three miles back into the lumber woods, 
where all kinds of timber is found, that 
flourishes in this climate. They cut all, 
both hard and soft. Tlie loaded tram 
cars are drawn by a steam locomotive, 
and run directly on to a ferry boat, 
which — by the aid of an inch wire — 
sails across to the saw mill, Tvhere the 
logs are tumbled into the river, being 
hitched to and drawn into the mill. This 
firm has leased the old Pennsylvania 
house, and a plot of land to pile their 
lumber on to dry. Speaking of this old 
house, reminds me of the early days of 
oil transportation. Before a railroad along 
the Allegheny was even talked of, the 
oil was transported from Tidioute to 
Irvineton in barrels. In the spring, sum- 
mer and fall, large flat boats towed by 
two, three, and four horses, in single file, 
were used to transnort the oleaginous 
treasure from the wells at Tidioute to 
the P. & E. railroad at Irvineton. This 
was greasy work for the men, and kill- 
ing work on the horses. In the fall and 
spring, when the shore ice was thick 
and sharp, the poor animals were pushed 
through the breaking ice, that would 
about half bear their weight, cutting 
their legs so severely that the generally 
clear waters of the Allegheny ran red 
with their blood. Many a noble horse 
laid down his life in this savage work. 
It was no uncommon sight to see the 
bloated carcasses of horses lodged along 
the shore. When a faithful equine would 
give up his life, the owner found it an 
easier way to dispose of the carcass by 
floating it off in the river than to bury 
it decently on shore. But when the ice 
got so solid, in the winter, that it could 
not be broken by the horses' hoofs, the 
mode of transportation was on bob-sleds, 
drawn by horses that were not killed in 
the ice. As the oil wells about Tidioute 
on Dennis run in particular, were con- 
siderably on the gusher order, it re- 
quired a vast number of teams to trans- 
port it. One trip was a good day's work 
for a team. The loads ranged from six 
to twelve barrels each. The reader can 
easily imagine the great necessity for 
hotels and stabling under these circum- 
stances. The roads were completely lined 



with teams. It was almost an impos- 
sibility for the hosts of teamsters {o 
find board and lodging for themselves 
and horses. This was the situation of 
things when "Jim" Conroe, an old farmer 
domiciled on the east bank of the Alle- 
gheny, took it into his head to show his 
philanthropy by building a four-story 
liotel on the narrow strip of land be- 
tween the wooded hill slope and the 
river. He put on all the masons and 
woodworkers that could find room to 
work and soon the the magnificent Penn- 
sylvania house reared its tall roof sky- 
ward, standing on an immense cut stone 
foundation, and ornamented by huge 
wooden pillars in front. People were 
wont to say: "How will Jim ever get 
his money back?" Well, Jim did get his 
money back in about one year. His big 
hotel filled up every night, as if by 
magic, and some nights more were turned 
away than taken in, and Jim soon found 
himself rolling in wealth. But an end 
comes to all things. Soon the cunning 
oil producer began to lay pipe lines. 
Then a railroad, now the W. N. T. & P., 
then the Warren & Franklin road, with 
its iron tank cars (brought into use by 
the lamented Adna Neyhart), great iron 
tanks that held the oil until convenient 
to move it to refineries, lightened the 
weight of the crude on the ground where 
it was produced; pump stations sent the 
oil through many arteries all over the 
land, and James Conroe found his great 
hotel unoccupied by guests. He lived in 
this hotel with his family until it nearly 
rotted down over his head. Then this 
lumber company came and rented the 
property, rejuvenated the old hotel, and 
now three families live under its hos- 
pitable roof, and "keep boarders." Con- 
roe, the builder, has moved out, and now 
contentedly spends his waning years on 
the fine old farm above Dunn's eddy, 
known as the "Dave Crull farm." Such 
are a few of the changes in the great oil 
business. Oil cost something those days. 
The fortunate owner of a gusher was 
obliged to Day $2 each for his barrels, 
and $1 for hauling, a smart sum for 
storage at the railroad depot, and high 
freights to the railroad corporations, 
which had not learned to respect this 
new oil business. 

If the eye of any of those old teamsters 
happens to fall on this, they will recol- 
lect the late James Patterson, who 
checked their loads of oil at Irvineton. 
Many a belated teamster came after Mr. 
Patterson had "shut up shop" for the 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



night. The most urgent entreaties of I fellows — many of whom wished to go 



these teamsters, asking Mr. P. to check 
their loads, were invariably answered by 
the words, "I cawn't do it," and the poor 



elsewhere for the night- 
linger until morning. 



-were obliged to 



CHAPTER II. 

STAGING BEFORE RAILROADS WERE A BLESSING TO 

OIL CITY. 



When the Atlantic & Great Western 
railway extended its Oil City brancli (or 
Franklin branch as it was called at that 
time) to Franklin, your correspondent, 
who, at that time, was helping to supply 
Smith & Allison, the only lumber yard 
owners in Oil City, with boards and 
shingles, was making almost weekly 
trips to the "Hub of Oildom." On one of 
these trips he took his wife along to let 
her see the beauties of oildom, as the 
beauties shone forth at that time. 

Well, one very cold winter's morning 
we took the P. & E. accommodation to 
Corry. Here we "changed cars" for Mead- 
ville. A rather pleasant ride on the old 
Atlantic & Great Western soon landed 
us in the great covered depot in Mead- 
ville. After a flrst-class dinner at the 
McHenry house, tliat great structure so 
well known to old-time oil men, where 
for $1 the hungry traveler could be 
feasted as sumptuously as at any of the 
great notels of New York. Alas for all 
vanishing things. How the greatness of 
the McHenry house has fallen, once the 
white aproned colored waiter flourished, 
now rats, and, I was on the point of 
saying, owls find a home. We took pas- 
sage on the "Franklin branch" for that 
"Nursery of Great Men" — Franklin. No 
"Exchange hotel" at that time (in fact 
no Mitchell lived there to build one). 
We. wife and I, put up at the United 
States hotel, Franklin's pride in the ho- 
tel line. After partaking of a very pala- 
table supper, we were consigned to the 
only vacant room in the house; but after 
being piloted in devious ways among 
cots by the dozen, placed in the parlor 
and halls and in every nook and corner 
by the accommodating porter, we found 
that we were in a room without lock or 
fastener of any kind. I did not feel 
safe, but my wife, the courageous wo- 
man that she always was, said: "Let the 
door go without fastening; no one will 
hurt us." With slight misgivings, I fell 
asleep that night to be awakened about 
3 o'clock in the morning by a man 
crawling around on the floor of our sleep- 
ing apartment. (Don't get alarmed, 
reader, nothing is going to happen.) I 



raised on my elbow and also raised my 
voice in a courageous tone, and de- 
manded of the intruder his business in 
our room. The incoherent muttering of 
tlie supposed culprit soon convinced us 
that the poor fellow was a victim to old 
King Alcohol, and that he was on the 
verge of the "jim jams." He had just 
sense enough left to get out of that room 
as gracefully as a man is expected to 
when rtot able to walk upright. He was 
no criminal, simply in a dazed condition. 
Several other men have been in tlie same 
condition from tlie same cause. The next 
morning we took passage on the stage 
for Oil City. Five dollars was the modest 
cliarge for two of us. This would have 
been less burdensome if not for the fact 
that the male passengers were obliged 
to jump out many times and help ex- 
tricate the wheels of the stage from the 
deep, frozen "chuck laoles." In fact, we 
not only helped lift the wheels out of 
those lioles, but many times we walked 
along for quite a distance with our 
shoulders to tlie vehicle in sometimes, 
vain endeavor to keep the stage wheels 
clear of those deep holes. After a short 
sojourn at the "Gibson house," wliich 
would not compare favorably with the 
pride of Oil City, the Arlington, in size 
and accommodation, but in good cheer 
its full equal, myself and wife con- 
cluded we would reach railway accom- 
modations by a different route than the 
one we came. The route chosen was up 
Oil Creek "by stage" to the Shaffer farm, 
where the "Oil Creek railroad" tlien had 
its terminus. Profiting by my experience 
while getting from Franklin to Oil City, 
I very gallantly paid $5 for my wife's 
"stage fare" to the Shaffer farm, and 
"hoofed if on terra flrma myself. Your 
readers may think this is a sort of a 
"buckwheat" arrangement to save $5. 
Nothing of the kind. This arrangement 
had a twofold advantage. In fact, a 
triplefold advantage. First, it was much 
easier for a man to walk from Oil City 
to Shaffer farm than to try to hang on to a 
"stage" and ride; second, my "better half" 
was much safer with her faithful hus- 
band walking by the side of tlie jostling. 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



tipping, rattling "stage," ready with his | 
strong arms, to arrest the movement of 
the stage when it would be standing on 
two wheels, ready to fall on its side; 
and, third, there was only room in the 
crowded thing called a "stage" for the 
female travelers. The ladies were af- 
flicted with a harum-scarum boy for a 
driver, who would lash his horses into 
the numerous crossings of Oil Creek, 
without any regard to whether the ice 
was thick enough to hold them up or 
just thin enough to let them go through 
with a smash and a crasn. Such driving 
I never witnessed before or since. It was 
really a relief to all concerned when the 
carriage, stage, wagon or whatever it 
might be called, broke down with a crash 
when two miles below Shaffer farm. 1 
never saw a more willing set of travelers 
than those ladies. They never knew 
what a comfort it was to have a genuine 



breakdown before. When the cars were 
sig -ted, a happier set of ladies were not 
met with on Oil Creek tnan those who 
were just released from the perils of Oil 
Creek stage travel. All got to the train 
on time except one "smart" young man 
and his best girl. The young man had 
more confidence in his time piece than in 
others carried by experienced travelers 
and insisted on all taking a slower gait. 
All got on the train "just in time" ex- 
cept this "smarty," who had the fun of 
seeing the train move off, not to return 
for him and his girl until the next day. 
In this age of progress, let the pas- 
senger of those days answer whether 
there is an improvement when he now 
lies down in a luxurious berth of a' 
Pullman sleeper and glides along the 
crooked, winding Oil Creek, without a 
jar. 



CHAPTER III. 

OIL CREEK POND "FRESH. 



The young people don't know and the 
older ones have nearly forgotten, when 
walking over the smooth, hard brick 
pavements of Oil City, what a change 
science and hard knocks have brought 
about. Let tlie reader look backward a 
few years — what do we see? We see a 
sea of thick mud in all the streets of 
Oil City, the depth of which could only 
be guessed at. The writer at one time 
stood on the corner near the First M. E. 
church (which was burned years ago) 
and saw, with his own eyes, three un- 
fortunate horses floundering flat in the 
very deep mud, with as many gangs of 
men trying to tow the poor brutes to one 
side of the street, where the mud was 
not quite as deep as in the middle of this 
muddy canal. Now, mind, these horses 
were all down at the same time, in three 
different directions, all in plain sight of 
the corner spoken of above. One of the 
horses was owned and driven by the only 
Tom Hecker, who is known to every man, 
woman and child in Oil City, and who, 
from almost time immemorial, has raised 
chickens and took toll at the north end 
of the Suspension bridge. Tom can tell 
you about mud and Oil City pond fresh- 
ets. 

Fearing that the unsophisticated read- 
er may not know what a pond freshet is 
I will say that the mode of getting the 
oil from the big wells along Oil Creek 
to the Allegheny river was by towing 
boats and barges up Oil Creek to the 
wells along the banks on either side with 



horses, then running the oil from the 
wooden tanks into these boats, in bulk. 
Tube works were not heard of those 
days in this section, and the pipes that 
conveyed the oil from the tank to the 
boat were generally made of boards, 
planks or anything that happened to be 
lying around loose. When all the own- 
ers of boats were ready, and they were 
legion, the chutes on all dams above 
Titusville would be cut. Then came the 
rushing waters, the ropes that held the 
loaded boats to the shores would be cut 
and the mad race for the Allegheny 
would be on. No old pencil of mine can 
describe the scene. Little and big bulk 
boats would fight their way down the 
rushing waters, endways, sideways and 
in all shapes, these boats would heave 
in sight of the shanty town of Oil City. 
The old bridge across the mouth of the 
creek would be black with people wlio 
flocked from the rough board shanties, 
called houses, to see one of the sights of 
the world, such a sight as was never 
seen before and never will be seen again. 
I witnessed one of these runs which end- 
ed very disastrously. The first boat to 
reach the bridge was one carrying 400 
barrels of oil, in bulk. The boat and oil 
was owned by an old Oil Citizen named 
Turner. He didn't turn that boat and 
cargo into money. The forward end of 
the boat struck a rock a few rods above 
the bridge, swung around and sailed up 
against the middle pier of the old 
bridge, the middle of the boat striking 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



the pier. Turner's boat came around the 
pier in two pieces, and his oil painted 
the river green from shore to shore. But 
if the show had ended here a vast 
amount of money would have been 
saved. The first boat that cleared the 
old creek bridge safely stuck on the river 
bar, out in front of the mouth of the 
creek. The river was low, and the creek 
high, consequently the hundreds of boats 
piled up against each other until the 
creek was a great drift pile from the 
bar in the river, to quite a distance above 
the Lake Shore tunnel. As the oil was 
slashing around loose in all these boats 
it was as amusing to the observer as it 
was dangerous to the boatmen to see the 
oil, when the boat would smash into the 
Jam, go surging from the rear to the 
front of the boat, there to pour into the 
waters of the Allegheny. As may be 
imagined, this general smashup was a 
great loss to the owners of the boats and 
oil. Tens of thousands of barrels of oil 
covered the surface of the river from 
shore to shore. This vast amount of oil, 
as it floated Pittsburgward, made the 
Allegheny one great river of green. 

Old Oil City settlers will bear me out 
in saying that the young dudes and 
dudesses of the far-famed Hub missed 



one of the greatest sights that falls to 
the lot of mortals to behold by being 
boin too late to see an Oil Creek oil pond 
freshet. And now here is where the ir- 
repressible Tom Hecker comes in again. 
When Tom saw that so much beautiful 
green grease had got away from the 
owners he improvised a small dam near 
the old Moran house, gathered a lot of 
barrels on short notice and, as oil was 
about $10 a barrel at that time, he 
cleared about $900 on this afternoon's 
work. 

One word about the price of real es- 
tate in those muddy times. The Hon. 
William Hasson offered to sell to me one- 
quarter of an acre of land wliere the 
postoffice now stands for $200. I could 
have borrowed the money and paid for 
it, but my dim vision could see nothing 
in it. My neighbors. J. C. and D. Mead, 
took the venture and paid the $200, built 
the very unsubstantial "Mead hotel," 
which cost them the sum of $500. They 
sold out in a year for $5,000. While they 
weie building their hotel the Mead 
brothers urged me to take the quarter- 
acre lot adjoining their hotel lot at $200, 
but my business capacity was not equal 
to the occasion, and I never became an 
Oil City lot owner. 



CHAPTER IV. 

PITHOLE HOTEL AND LIVERY CHARGES. 



A few words about teaming. The word 
teaming meant something when Oil City 
was a shanty town. The soft alluvial soil 
on the Hasson flats was good material to 
form mortar beds of, when nothing 
could be moved without that faiihful 
servant of man — the horse — and as busi- 
ness boomed to such an extent that 
thousands of horses were needed to keep 
things moving, the flats soon became. In 
a rainy time, one mammoth mudhole. 

Now, to illustrate things, and to give 
the modern reader a slight idea of the 
cost of doing business at the time of 
which I write I will give an account of 
my first oil venture. I was taken in as a 
partner of J. C. & D. Mead, to operate 
an acre lease on Cherry run. about a 
half mile above Rouseville. I owned a 
quarter interest and was unanimously 
elected sucerintendent. Well, to make a 
long story short, the first well was fin- 
ished at a cost of about $9,000. The 
reader may think that there was mis- 
management on the Dart of the superin- 
tendent in running up such a bill as that 
in putlng down one well in "shallow ter- 
ritory." After an explanation, the reader 



will think different. The teaming was 
the great factor in the big expense ac- 
count. In the first place, a boiler was 
drawn onto the ground bj^ four span of 
horses, at $18 a span. Then after trying 
to drill a few weeks, the fact leaked out 
that there were not enough flues inside 
the boiler, and the old sawlog-shaped 
thing was hustled aside and a new $2,000 
boiler put in its place. This last venture 
was satisfactory. That high-priced boil- 
er was equal to the task of making the 
steam to keep the unweildy old second- 
hand engine in motion. But now let us 
look again at the cost of this $9,000 job. 
Here is where the text "teaming" comes 
in again. This big boiler would not boil 
without heat, and to make heat wood or 
coal was required, .and as wood was 
about $5 a cord delivered, we used coal. 
Cranberry coal. From the mines to our 
oil well was one great river of very stiff 
mud. This coal was hauled on wagons, 
to which was hitched three span of 
horses, and we paid the very modest 
little price of $1.25 per bushel. The 
owners of the coal were not unreason- 
able in charging what seems, in these 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



days of railroads, a bis steal. The sell- I 
ers of this coal were fair dealers. They 
could not set tlie coal out of the crude { 
Cranberry mines and haul it tlirough 
this deep mud as fast as tlie green oper- 
ators would take it at $1.25 per bushel. 
Well, the reader can see, without glasses, 
tliat this kind of work kept up for sev- 
eral weeks, with the little light weight 
tools of those days, could very easily 
reach the $9,000 mark. Scientific opera- 
tors of to-day will wonder whether this 
company of Mead & Brown came off win- 
ners or losers. The answer is neither. 
Oil was $3.5 per barrel and the well 
panned out about 25 barrels a day, and 
kept up this production until the com- 
pany sold out and were neitlier winners 
nor losers, from a financial point of 
view. But in an educational standpoint, 
the company were the gainers. Tliey 
came off with a few hundred dollars' 
worth of experience. 

Anotlier leaf froin mv own experience 
will help along with this article with 
"teaming" for the text. 

Mead & Co. (which means ourself and 
Nelson Mead, now of Corydon, Pa.) 
leased a building lot on a back street at 
Pithole City and built a store house, of 
the rough order, on said lot. We were 
obliged to fatboat our lumber and ma- 
terial down tlie Allegheny from Irvine- 
ton to McCray"s Landing, a noted com- 
mercial point at that time. From tlie 
landing to Pithole City, four miles, was 
found a typical oil country mudhole. 
We (Mead »<t Co. paid $20 per thousand 
to have our lumber hauled and delivered 
on our speculative building lot. The 
store room went ud witli a rush, at a 
cost of $800. When completed, we were 
offered $1,800 for the building. We 
wanted $2,000 for it. Our customer 
wanted us to give him three days to 



think about it. We gave the time. At 
tlie end of three days he had dropped 
$800 and offered us $1,000. After a hur- 
ried consultation. Mead & Co. concluded 
tliat at tliis rate of dropping off, it would 
not take a very long time to get below 
cost. So we closed the bargain, con- 
tent with $200 profit on our ven- 
ture. Our customer gave us $650 cash 
down and a bank note due in 30 day* 
for $350. At the end of 30 days when 
Mead & Co. called at the then waning oil 
metropolis, our customer wanted to give 
us the property for the $350 note. As we 
were not anxious to buv Pithole City 
property on tlie declining valuation, we 
refused tlie generous offer, and called 
on tlie bank and drew our $35 0. Mead & 
Co. were not a grasping corporation and 
their kind liearts could not be brought 
to the point of taking a $1,000 property 
for $350. 

To show the reader that horseback 
riding was a luxury tliose days, to be 
paid for, as well as teaming, I will say 
I hired a little bit of horseflesh, with a 
saddle on, one day. during my business 
career in Pithole, for the purpose of rid- 
ing four miles, to McCray's Landing, and 
return. When the trip was finished, the 
liveryman, who was not stopping at Pit- 
hole for his health, charged me $5. I 
told the dealer in horses that I did not 
intend to buy the horse, but only to 
pay for the use of it, about two hours. 
A glance at the man's face showed that 
he meant business and I handed over the 
fiver without further protest. When I 
took into consideration tlie fact that I 
had, that very morning, paid 75 cents to 
a hotel man for sleeping in a haymow In 
the barn, witliout even a blanket, I came 
I to the conclusion that the liveryman was 
I quite reasonable in his charges, and was 
1 only keeping abreast of ihe times. 



CHAPTER V. 



GEN. BURNSIDE'S RAILROAD. 



The young citizens, and part of the old. 
Of Oil City, while enjoying the blessings 
of four railroads, may not know the dif- 
ficulty under wnich outside capitalists 
labored in bringing the present state of 
affairs about. I well remember that 
when the Atlantic & Great Western built 
a branch of their road from Meadville 
to Reno, the management found them- 
selves "up a stump" when reaching the 
sacred precincts of the "Hub." The "city 
fathers" would not let a noisy and 
smoky railroad come into the "golden 
streets" of Oil City. The muddy streets 



and the creek and river were good enough 
for them. Besides, there was "no room 
on the narrow flats for railroad tracks." 
The city of Reno was not quite large 
enough for a great railroad terminus, so 
a railroad was built from Reno to 
Plumer. The city of Plumer was the 
terminus. Oil City, with Its short- 
sighted and high-toned council was left 
out in the cold. I had the pleasure of 
riding from Franklin to Plumer several 
times on this picturesque and expensive 
road. I am not exactly sure as to the 
distance from Reno to Plumer. but I 



10 



OLD TIMES IN 01 LOOM. 



think it was about 16 miles. This is 
not as the crows fly, but as the sur- 
veyors laid out the road. The route ran 
toward Dempseytown for several miles, 
when the top of the mountain was 
reached. Here a station was built, and a 
prospective town laid out in lots (Oil 
City speculators did not tumble over 
each other to buy lots); then down grade 
for a few more miles brought the road 
over dangerous looking trestles plump 
into McClintockville, then up through 
Rouseville and on up Cherry run to 
Plumer, the terminus of the only rail- 
road in this great oil region. 

Coming down the mountain side from 
the direction of Dempseytown to McClin- 
tockville, a passenger could get a peep 
at a part of Oil City. The part that 
could be seen seemed to almost hide its 
head in shame at the thought that Reno, 
Dempseytown, McClintockville, Rouse- 
ville, Cherry Run, the Humboldt refinery 
and Plumer could have a railroad, but 
the greasy, busy hub of oildom could not 
have one. The city council and every- 
body else were obliged to get out of the 
city on a raft, flat boat, wagon, horse- 
back, or afoot, while Plumerites could 
take a seat for New York or any city, on 
a soft cushion in a railroad passenger 
coach. Of course the haughty citizen of 
Plumer was obliged to "change cars" at 
Reno, from the standard gauge to the 
(then) six-foot gauge of the Atlantic & 
Great Western. But what oi that? Could 
they not glide down Cherry Run and up 
through several townships over the 
mountain to Reno, with the serene satis- 
faction of knowing that poor little Oil 
City had no ra.iroad connection with the 
outer world? Well, the reader may say, 
"Who was so short-sighted as to build a 
road with such grades, when Oil City, 
with its commanding location, was sure 
to become quite a railroad center in no 
great length of time, regardless of near- 
sighted rulers?" I cannot answer that 
question — I can say that a man of great 
renown was president of the Plumer 
road. 

The only time that I ever had the 
pleasure of seeing General Burnside was 
when he was seated on a pile of ties, on 
a flat car, or gondola, making strenuous 
efforts to get over the road, of which he 
was president. Two of these flat cars, 
partly loaded with ties, were hitched to 
a fine, new locomotive. Three times the 
start was made from Reno, and three 
times these two cars were backed down 
to the junction at Reno, for a new start, 
after having labored up the mountain 
side a mile or two. Tlie fourth time the 
summit was gained, up among the Ve- 



nango county farms, and the great gen- 
eral soon found himself and directors 
flying down over the dangerous looking 
gullies to ti.e raging Oil Creek. I never 
heard the general's report after this pa- 
tient ride, but very likely it was not 
very encouraging to the stockholders of 
his oil country railroad. 

Speaking of Plumer railroads reminds 
me of tlie old Pithole railroad. This was 
a six-foot gauge, and it came to the very 
doors of Plumer. Little can be said of 
this road, only that it was built from 
the mouth of Pithole creek to the mush- 
room town of a few months' duration, 
Pithole City. When the city moved out 
the railroad moved out also. Plumer 
was tapped on both sides by new rail- 
roads, but they did not stick. Just im- 
agine passenger trains running four 
trips a day from Pithole City to the 
moutii of Pithole creek. It is not likely that 
one passenger a day would pass over the 
road at the present time. The superin- 
tendent of the road, Blair, for many 
years superintendent of the Shenango 
road, kindly gave me a free pass over 
this four-mile road, but it ceased opera- 
tions before I had an opportunity to use 
it, and the pass died on my hands. Be- 
fore closing this No. 5 chapter, I wish 
to give tlie business youth of to-day a 
hint in regard to the cost of doing busi- 
ness in those days. I bought a quarter 
interest in one acre of oil land at Pit- 
hole, on which some men were trying to 
put down a well with a spring pole. In 
other words, they were trying to "kick 
it down." I did not know the exact loca- 
tion of my purchase, so I hied me away 
to Franklin to get a view of the docket. 
I found the clerk in the register and re- 
corder's office and made known my busi- 
ness to him . I wished to copy the lease. 
The clerk was driven with business. He 
was flying around in a great hurry. He 
said, "Can you give me the day of the 
month and the year when this lease was 
recorded?" I told him I could give the 
year, but I had not the month and day. 
He saiu, "I can't find it with that di- 
rection, but if you will give me $50 I 
will try to find it." As I had no $50 bill 
in my vest pocket at tliat certain time 
and as I had more time to fool away 
than the clerk seemed to have, I asked 
for a loan of his index for a short time. 
He rather reluctantly handed me the de- 
sired book and within the next 50 min- 
utes I had a copy of the Pithole lease 
and felt somewhat as If I had done $50 
worth of business in just 50 minutes. 
Court house tips those days were worth 
looking after. 



OLD TIMES IN 01 LOOM. 



II 



CHAPTER VI. 



JAMES S. McCRAY. 



This article will treat upon Petroleum 
Centre when it was a second Pithole City. 
Your readers, who have not been an eye 
witness to the lively scenes that I am 
about to relate, have heard "more or less 
of ancient Petroleum Centre. The way- 
farer, in passing the quiet little hamlet 
now on a swift running W. N. Y. & P. 
train, don't see the surging, bustling, 
mixed-up masses of humanity that once 
thronged the streets. Your oldest read- 
ers will, perhaps, remember that about 
the time Pithole City made such a sud- 
den fizzle, Petroleum Centre dawned on 
the oil country scene like a meteor. The 
Maple Shade well and Coquette well, 
flowing their thousands of barrels per 
day of high priced oil, set the whole oil 
country wild, and soon the town of half 
a hundred had a population that ran in- 
to thousands, and what kind of a popula- 
tion was It? Well, that is a hard ques- 
tion to answer. It was composed of all 
classes, from the murderer to the minster 
of the gospel. The thugs, gamblers and 
soiled doves were in the majority — a 
great majority. About 200 of the latter 
came down from fast waning Pithole 
City and took up their abode in Petrol- 
eum Centre's dance houses, of which 
there were about a half dozen, free and 
easies and other "houses." The male 
population was but little better than the 
female and Petroleum Centre was a 
"daisy" town. Murder was among the 
crimes committed here and the lesser 
felonies can never be enumerated. Still, 
many good Christian people found them- 
selves surrounded by this wicked popu- 
lation. Three churches went up like 
magic. Methodist Episcopal, Presby- 
terian and Catholic churches; also 
a very creditable school building. 
I will speak in particular of the 
Presbyterian church as I took the 
contract of building it. The late 
James S. McCray, who, when alive, 
was known to every oil operator 
from Allegany, N. Y., to Lima, O., was 
chairman of the building committee. 
"Jim," as all called him, had a little in- 
come of $5 a minute, night and day, Sun- 
days and all, from his hillside farm, cir- 
culated a subscription paper to raise 
$6,500, the cost of the church. Dr. Eg- 
bert headed the list with $1,000 and 
"Jim" followed with a like amount and 
two others, whose names have gone from 
my memory, came down with four fig- 
ures, and in less than a day the whole 
amount was raised. McCray collected the 
money as he went along, and took it 



home with him the same night, put it 
under the pillow of his brother-in-law 
for safe keeping, but one or more of 
Petroleum Centre's crooks slipped a lit- 
tle chloroform in through tlie window 
and slipped the great wad of greenbacks 
out, and in the morning nothing but a 
strong smell of chloroform and a very 
sick brother-in-law was found in the 
room. 

The thieves had a gay time among the 
dance houses on this church money, and 
"Jim" paid for the church from his own 
pocket with as good grace as could be 
expected. His time, at the period I speak 
of, was so much taken up in looking 
after his big Income that he let the mat- 
ter drop, after just a little ineffectual 
scolding. 

I mention just an incident or two that 
will show up the oddities of this some- 
time millionaire. ( This is the amount 
that he could have placed his farm in a 
stock company for at one time.) During 
the period of two months, while my car- 
penters were building the cliurch, Jim 
frequently invited me to accompany him 
to his home, nearly a mile from town, 
on the mountain slope. I often accepted 
his hospitality. (He was a second cousin 
of mine and a very cheerful relative.) 
On a very dark night on one of these 
trips, a« we wended our way up through 
the woods, we were a little alarmed by 
hearing a pistol shot a few rods ahead 
of us. We heard several voices through 
the darkness and soon found that sev- 
eral men were approaching us. We nat- 
urally thought that as there was but 
two of us and four of them that we 
would get the worst of it, if that pistol 
shot meant war on us. We were some- 
what relieved in mind when we met the 
four men, and they passed along without 
paying the least attention to the man 
of money. We never knew who the men 
were or what caused the pistol ^hot. 
When we were fairly away from the 
men and by the sound of their voices 
were convinced that they were at a safe 
distance Mr. McCray gave vent to his 
feelings in the following words: "I wish 
there had never been a drop of oil found 
on Oil Creek. I can't sleep nights. My 
dog makes a fearful fuss nearly every 
night, as if some prowlers were about. 
And I can't come up through these 
Ijrush without expecting a club over my 
head, handled by some of these wretches 
who would murder me for my money." 
After we had safely reached his fireside 
I mentioned his big income from his 400- 



12 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



barrels wells, and oil at $3.00 per barrel. 
.Tim took his pencil and figured a while, 
then he said: "My income is $5.00 a min- 
ute; if I had figured on this before we 
left town I would have hired a livery 
rig to bring us up." The next morning 
I was out of bed at quite an early hour. 
About sunrise — before breakfast — cast- 
ing my eyes in the direction of one of 
McCray's many meadows, I saw a wagon 
load of hay coming toward the barn and 
Jim was walking along behind the load 
with a pitchfork on his shoulder. He had 
glanced out of his sleeping room, at day- 
break, and saw clouds gathering; then he 
hustled his hired man to the field with a 
wagon and horses to save a load of hay 
that was liable to get spoiled if rain 
came. He pitched the load on the wagon 
himself. At another time I found him 
in one of his fields, in his shirt sleeves, 
digging green sprouts away from the 
oak stumps. He was covered with per- 
spiration, and almost breathlessly, he 
told me that he had been "making fence 
and digging sprouts for two weeks, and 
was not quite done with the job yet." At 
this time he said: "I have 100,000 bar- 
rels of oil, and I am offered $4.50 per 
barrel. I have it in tanks, and I will hold 
it until it sweats through the iron be- 
fore I take less than $5.00 a barrel for 
it.' He afterward sold it for $1.12 a bar- 
rel, when much of it had been wasted by 
leakage and evaporation. There was only 
one James S. McCray. Of all the Oil 
Creek and other farm owners who were 
suddenly made rich by the oil business 
none were better known, and none more 
upright and horyest in their dealings with 
all. His word Was as good as his bond. 

And now. "one on myself" will not be 
out of place. When getting the lumber 
on the ground for this church I found 
much difllculty. No railroad passed 
through Petroleum Centre at that time. 
The framing timber of the church had 
to be rafted and fioated to Oil City, then 
towed with horses up Oil Creek to Pe- 
troleum Centre. The lumber was billed 
to Pioneer, a mile above Petroleum Cen- 
tre. Then came the rub, to get this lum- 
ber down the creek through mud to the 
hubs of the wagon. A construction train 
was at work building a side-track on the 
Boyd farm, across the creek opposite Pe- 
troleum Centre. I slipped a $20 bill into 
the hand of the conductor of the con- 
struction train and bribed him to hitch 
three lumber cars to the rear of his 
gravel train and pull them down that 
mile. As there was no side-track at 
Boyd farm I got men enough to unload 
my lumber as quick as the railroad em- 
ployes unloaded the gravel cars. Thus, 
the conductor got his $20 and did not 
lose one minute of time. Twenty dol- 
lars was a "right smart" price for 
handling one coupling pin, but I saved 
about $50 by the transaction. But the 



reader has not seen the "one on my- 
self" yet. Here it is: All this business 
kept me in this wicked town a part of 
the time. I stopped at the American 
hotel — a very good oil country hotel, 
that has long since disappeared. One 
night a dance was given for the benefit 
of tlie guests. The music was furnished 
by one of the dance house bands; three 
nice-looking and very excellent musicians 
made the melody for the occasion. I was 
something of a violinist those days, and 
I played a few sets to rest these musi- 
cians, while they took a whirl at "the 
giddy maz'es of the dance." Those three 
young men said they were not of the 
class tliat danced after their music, but 
they were far from home and were get- 
ting as much out of tlieir accomplish- 
ments as Dossible, but that they would 
be very sorry to let their mothers, away 
in the east, know the quality of their 
employers. I had no right to doubt their 
word, and don't now. Now comes the 
joke. The next evening I was passing 
along the busy street and those melod- 
ious strains of music of the night be- 
fore floated into my ears through the 
open door of a "dance house." I prom- 
ised myself, when a boy, to never enter 
one of these places, and never had 
broken my promise. I could see my vir- 
tuous friends making music with piano, 
horn and violin and felt like speaking to 
them. I stood for a few moments un- 
decided. Just two nights before that 
time a man had been shot and killed in a 
"dance hall" a little farther up the 
street. My thoughts told me that if I 
should go in there, and break my prom- 
ise, if anybody would be shot it would 
be me. But for all this the music got 
the best of me, and I stepped in and 
greeted my newly-made musical friends. 
I was immediately asked to take the 
violin "and play a set." "Well, I thought 
I could not get much lower, so I took 
the proffered instrument and led off, and 
disgraced the best quadrille I knew. 
While the music of my violin floated on 
the air. very much scented, assisted by 
the skillful manipulations of the piano 
and cornet, my mind was busy. It was 
more troubled than ever was Dr. Park- 
hurst when visiting such places. Just 
as I was thinking that If I should be 
shot and carried home to my wife a 
corpse the history of the occurrence in 
the newspapers would not be gratifying 
to my relatives a big fight took place, 
and one man was knocked down and 
I could hear the blood spilling and 
gurgling from his wounds. The dancing 
girls came running back, dodging behind 
the piano, crying out: "They will shoot; 
they will shoot!" Then I thought my 
time had come to atone for breaking 
my promise to myself. And as the piano 
leg? were not large enough to protect 
the dancers and musicians, both, I opened 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



13 



a door behind the music stand, not know- my hotel, with a new promise to my- 
ing where it led to, and stepped out into self, that as this was the first "dance 
God's pure air. By a flank movement I ! hall" visited by me it would also be 
got around to the front street and to j the last, and I have kept the promise. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE GRANDINS AND COAL OIL JOHNNY. 



I want to say something about the 
Grandins and Coal Oil Johnny. The Gran- 
dins, aided by their immense amount of 
cash, always turned what at first prom- 
ises to be a losing game into piles of 
money. Here is an instance: A few 
years ago they sent the Hon. J. B. "White, 
of Youngsville, into the state of Mis- 
souri to buy yellow pine land. Mr. "White 
was as full of energy "as an egg is full 
of meat," and ere long he had a deed for 
about 70,000 acres of land nicely covered 
with a fine quality of yellow pine. 
Then, under the superintendency of Mr. 
"White, an immense mill was built, and 
millions of feet of lumber manufac- 
tured. But this lumber had to be drawn 
on wagons over 10 miles to reach a rail- 
road. TJnder the circumstances the cost 
almost kept pace with the income. And 
now comes the point where their capital 
came into good play. They took a large 
amount of stock in a projected railroad 
and insured the building of it. The road 
ran 27 miles through their pine timber. 
I was told by one of the brothers that 
now they make a profit of $8 per thou- 
sand on their lumber, and each dollar 
counts $1,000,000 on the whole lot. In 
other words, $1 per thousand makes a 
million dollars on the estimated amount 
of their timber. They will make $8,000,- 
000 on a transaction that would have 
broken up 20 men without capital. The 
old saying that "it takes money to make 
money," is fully proved here. Another 
novelty in their way of doing business 
will no doubt be interesting to many of 
your readers. In their travels all over 
the United States they never kept an ex- 
pense account. The late Adna Neyhart, 
their brother-in-law, the gentleman who 
first introduced the business of trans- 
porting oil in tank cars, was a partner 
of the three Grandin brothers. Neither 
of the quartette ever wasted ink and 
paper by keeping track of traveling ex- 
penses when abroad. Each had perfect 
confidence in all the others. 

Now, I will finish this article by a 
couple of allusions to a couple of quite 
noted men. The first is ex-Senator James 
McMullen. I'll tell you how he com- 



menced his career in oildom. "Jim," as 
he was familiarly called years ago, was 
quite an expert blacksmith at "Warren, 
Pa. "When the great oil strikes set the 
whole country nearly crazy Jim packed 
his kit of blacksmith tools and his 
household goods and made good time on 
a raft to Oil City. Your humble corre- 
spondent was at that time second mate 
on a flat boat, wnich was propelled by 
very much jaded horses up and down the 
raging waters of Oil Creek. As there 
were no roads to speak of and mud 
galore the early pioneers in oildom were 
only too glad to avail themselves of this 
greasy mode of transportation. Jim Mc- 
Mullen was among the number that 
piled their "flittin" on the bottom of our 
greasy oil boat. "We landed the goods 
safely, but not clean enough to brag on, 
at McClintockville, where Jim had built 
a rude blacksmith shop and dwelling 
house. About the first thing attended to 
was a "house warming." Then the 
musical ability of the "second mate" was 
brought into play. He, with the assis- 
tance of another music murderer, reeled 
off the "Opera Reel," "Money Musk," 
"Crooked S," "Chase the Squirrel," and 
other scientific pieces of music all night 
long for the lads and lasses of the then 
busy McClintockville, while putting in 
their biggest licks in the way of danc- 
ing "hoedowns." Music sailed around 
through the air in that hemlock shanty 
in great chunks. Music from Coleman's 
orchestra would dwindle down into noth- 
ing compared to ours. "V^'^ell, all your Oil 
City readers will know that genuine 
genius cannot be kept In a hemlock 
blacksmith shop and "Jim" rose rapidly. 
The first time that I had the pleasure 
of looking at "Johnny" Steel was at 
Rouseville, after he had "blowed in" his 
million and a half dollars. He was 
seated on a high spring seat of an oil 
wagon, driving a black team of horses. 
The wagon was loaded with barrels filled 
with crude oil. Johnny was complacent- 
ly smoking a cigar. At that time I was 
a correspondent of the Erie Morning Dis- 
patch. I wrote him up. The item raised 
Johnny's "dander," but he did not know 
who to vent his wrath upon. A few 



14 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



months after that Johnny was the 
trusted baggagemaster of the Oil Creek 
railroad. One day Conductor "Pap" 
Richards said to me: "I wish you would 
interview Johnny and set him right in 
the Dispatch. There are so many ex- 
aggerated reports going the rounds of 
the newspapers that he is terribly an- 
noyed. Tell him that I sent you to him." 
I called upon the baggagemaster, intro- 
duced myself according to Conductor 
Richards' instructions. Johnny opened 
up in dead earnest. His talk, as near as 
I can recollect, ran in this wise: "I will 
give you all the information that you 
ask, but it makes me mad to see the 

d d fool reports in the papers. A 

d d fool wrote me up last spring in 

the Erie Dispatch. He said I was haul- 
ing oil in a black greasy wagon, with a 
cigar in my mouth and a lot of other 

fool trash. D n him, he was drunk 

all the time he was here — if ever I get 
sight of him I'll trash him." I did not 
feel like telling Johnny that I never 
was drunk in my life, for the very good 
reason that I never took a drink of that 
which intoxicates. So I let him remain 
in ignorance as to who the Dispatch cor- 
respondent was. And now, to make this 
article not too lengthy, I will briefly give 
Steele's story: 

"I will give you the correct state- 
ment for the Dispatch. The newspapers 
throughout the country have been say- 
ing that I hired a fine carriage in Phila- 
delphia for a ride and when I returned 
to my hotel I bought the whole outfit 
and presented it to the driver. And on 
another occasion I rented the Conti- 
nental hotel for one day — paying $10,000 
as rental. The papers told too many 
other foolish, stories about me to repeat 
here. I will simply say that these re- 
ports are all false. The cause of the dis- 
appearance of my fortune in so short a 



time was sharpers taking advantage of 
my inexperience. They cleaned me out 
before I was aware of the fact. (At this 
point in his recital Johnny gave the 
names of some of the rogues that rob- 
bed him — I will omit their names.) Af- 
ter my large fortune was gone I made a 
solemn resolve, in my own mind, to be a 
frugal and industrious man the rest of 
my natural life. I have kept this self- 
made promise, and during the past few 
years I have paid for a home, paid for a 
team and outfit and I have a snug little 
bank account. I intend to reclaim a 
small part of my lost fortune and all of 
my good name." 

While Mr. Steele was talking he im- 
pressed me very favorably. His whole 
demeanor showed plainly that he was no 
ordinary man. And his words and every 
action proved this. He was a faithful 
and favorite employe of the Oil Creek 
railroad when it required a good and 
competent man to attend to the business 
of baggagemaster at the then busy 
Rouseville depot. Soon after this inter- 
view Johnny's familiar face disappeared 
from the Rouseville depot. I was told 
that he had secured a more lucrative and 
important situation on some western 
railroad. There never was but one "Coal 
Oil Johnny" on the face of the earth. 
Who ever heard of a young man getting 
away with $1,500,000 in a couple of 
years, and then that same young man 
settling down immediately to the hard, 
solid knocks of a poor man's life and be- 
coming an industrious, trusted model 
man of business and integrity. "Coal 
Oil Johnny" Is both a novelty and an 
enigma. We may search the wide world 
over and we will not find his counter- 
part. Surely the "old times in oildom" 
developed some odd characters. Further 
on in this series of chapters I will men- 
tion more of them. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

NARROW ESCAPE FROM BEING A BLOATED 
BONDHOLDER. 



I'll take a funny subject this time. 
I'll take my own experience. I'll tell how 
I did not make several fortunes. The first 
attempt was the leasing of about 3,000 
acres of "dry territory." I was at Oil 
City at the time the dry territory excite- 
ment started north. When it reached 
Pleasantville I betook myself to my home 
in Youngsville, Pa., where I began to 
lease far ahead of the tidal wave. I 
wrote my contracts somewhat in this 



manner: "I agree to sell my farm to 
G. W. Brown, of Youngsville, Pa., for 
so many dollars per acre," and it was 
always a price quite low. (The land was 
worth fully the amount named for farm- 
ing purposes.) "Provided said Brown 
pays the amount within three months 
from date." I picked up 3,000 acres 
within a couple of weeks, and rested on 
my laurels and waited for the wave to 
come. It came, and soon leasers were 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



15 



promising twice as much as I had prom- 
ised for just as good land. I had some 
good offers, but as my time was not 
near up, and the price of dry territory 
was going up and up, I held on for the 
highest notch. I finally had an offer by 
which I could pocket a profit of about 
$40,000. I concluded to strike while the 
Iron was hot; but the iron did not stay 
hot quite long enough. I'll tell why. 
When 1 made the sale, I found that I 
must locate each separate lot on the 
Warren county map. I had about ten 
days to drive around and make my loca- 
tions. During ♦'■■pse ten days, Sherman 
took Atlanta, and capitalists made up 
their minds that greenbacks were better 
than "dry territory," and the bottom fell 
out of tills kind of business. I paid a 
big price for learning that "a bird in the 
hand is worth two in the bush." 

My second lesson was somewhat con- 
nected with the first. While contracting 
the 3,000 acres of land, spoken of above, 
my good old friend, Alden Marsh, came 
to me and said: "George, let me put my 
100 acres of pine land into your deal. I 
will let you have an option on it for 
$1,600." As this land was worth double 
this amount, I wrote a contract immedi- 
ately. A month later Mr. Marsh came 
to me with another remark, which ran in 
this wise: "George, I let you have the 
option on my land too soon. Now, I will 
tell you what I will do. I will give you 
100 acres in Cherry Grove. It did not 
cost me much. I bid it in at a few cents 
an acre for taxes due, and It is not worth 
anything. I will give it to you if you 
will give up my contract for the 100 
acres of pine land." Mr. Marsh — bless 
his memory — being my best friend in a 
business way, had only to ask this favor 
to get it. And now I will tell you where 
the trouble came in. I thought, with Mr. 
Marsh, that the Cherry Grove land was 
worth nothing, and did not take the 
trouble to get a deed made out. Tears 
after Mr. Marsh died and about that 
time the oil excitement began to creep 
toward Cherry Grove. Then it was that 
I asked Mr. Marsh's widow about this 
land of mine. Of course, Mrs. Marsh 
knew nothing whatever about my very 
careless land trade, and had sold the 
land for $3 an acre. Not very long after 
this, the great "mystery," or "646," was 
struck, and upon close inquiry I found 
that the great well was located less than 
a half mile from my 100 acres. And the 
100 acres that I didn't own was worth 
about $50,000 in the market. This time 
I paid a big price for my negligence. 

Now comes another close call. A short 
time before Edenburg became a great oil 



town, a citizen, of rather shaky repute, 
living near the old hamlet, discovered 
large quantities of white mica on his 
land. He soon took into collusion with 
him a man living near Youngsville, Pa., 
and samples of "melted silver" were ex- 
hibited about Youngsville and vicinity. 
Men who had accumulated money by 
shrewdness and good investment grab- 
bed at this bait voraciously and paid big 
bonuses for leases in this silver belt. 
After several thousand dollars had been 
invested by Youngsville citizens, Chapin 
Siggins (an old California miner), D. 
Mead and myself made a visit to this 
new Eldorado. It was a two-day jaunt, 
on horseback, under a broiling sun. 
When we reached the neighborhood of 
the "mines" we engaged board for a day 
or two with an old farmer, who charged 
us the princely sum of six cents a meal, 
and six cents a feed for our horses. As 
we expected to soon make a great for- 
tune in silver mines, we did not kick at 
this "extortion." Our California expert 
soon pronounced this shining silver white 
mica. As we were then in the confines 
of Clarion county, and as the weather 
was too hot for comfortable traveling, 
and as our finances seemed to be ample 
to pay our "bed and board," we concluded 
to rusticate a day or two. Before leaving 
this enchanted spot where fortunes had 
not been made and lost, but simply lost, 
our silver company took an option on 100 
acres of quite good farming land. "W© 
paid a large amount down "to bind the 
contract." This sum was one dollar, cash. 
This contract was gotten up in fun, and 
ran quite a long time. It read, that if we 
paid $4,000 within two years, the farm 
was ours. Here is just where the fun 
did not come in. If we had made the 
time four years (which we could have 
done, with the full consent of the owner), 
we would have had an option on a $100,- 
000 farm, for $4,000. This same farm 
was one of the best in the Edenburg oil 
field. When the Edenburg oil excitement 
was at its height our silver syndicate 
was not sure of the time of our option, 
and hastened to look up the contract, not 
knowing at that time whether our con- 
tract ran one or ten years. We found 
the limit about six months short at one 
end. 

As I have run this letter out to quite 
a length and fearing that your many 
readers may begin to doubt my business 
sagacity, I will let up for awhile, but 
may allude to a few more of my narrow 
escapes from being a "bloated bond- 
holder" before these articles, named 
"Old Times in Oildom" are all written. 



i6 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



CHAPTER IX. 



THE LUMBER BUSINESS IN PARKER CITY. 



In this ninth chapter I will give a little 
attention to the once famous Parker 
City. 

When this oil town was just getting a 
good start, your humble correspondent 
was crossing the Allegheny river on the 
old chain ferry, owned by McLaughlin & 
Fullerton. And right here let me say that 
each of those men made a nice little for- 
tune before the iron bridge was built 
spanning the river at that point, and con- 
necting Clarion and Armstrong counties 
by this old ferry. Day and night, it 
was loaded with teams and passengers. 
I heard "Jim" Lambing say: "My, 
I wish I knew where I could get two 
carloads of lumber." I offered to deliver 
the lumber within three days. Mr. 
Lambing was delighted witn my offer, and 
thus commenced quite an extensive lum- 
ber business. When the two loads were 
delivered to Mr. L., (Mr. Lambing was 
afterwards mayor of the city of Corry, 
Pa.), I contracted to deliver two car- 
loads more to another party. When this 
last lot reached Parker City I found that 
my man was not a "gilt-edged" operator, 
and I refused to let him have the lumber 
without the "cash down." He failed to 
come to time, and I left the lumber with 
"Doc" Harmon, to be sold by him, he to 
have half the profits for his trouble. 
Doc then began to fire orders at me as 
fast as I could fill them. Then a base 
of operations became necessary and I 
leased a few rods square of swamp land 
of "Old Fullerton Parker." as he was fa- 
miliarly called, paying $600 a year ren- 
tal. After renting the ground I was 
obliged to haul in about 100 loads of 
gravel before I could pile lumber on the 
soft land. Then an office appeared on 
the scene, and G. W. Brown ran the first 
lumber yard in the greasy City of Par- 
ker. For about two years my luck was 
the very best. I had for customers the 
best operators in the (then) new field. 
They paid their bills at the end of each 
month. But "it's a long lane that has 
no turn." If any man did owe me dur- 
ing the first two years of my yard busi- 
ness in Parker's Landing, and happened 
to go into bankruptcy, he had just paid 
me off in full. This was rather a pleas- 
ant experience for me. But the trouble 
came in the turn of the lane. At the 
end of two years, when my individual 
profits had been about $15,000, oil took 
a downward plungs. and fell from about 
$.3 a barrel to about 60 cents. Then it 
was that my heretofore good customers 
went into bankruptcy by the dozen, and 



I was kept busy for a few months going 
to Pittsburg to adjust claims with the 
register in bankruptcy. I became quite 
well acquainted with this genial gentle- 
man. And this genial gentleman made 
more money out of this kind of business 
than I did. In the end I found that I 
had been throwing good money after 
poor money. I never received one dollar 
on one of my adjusted claims. I learned 
that when a Parker City oil operator 
went into bankruptcy he went in to stay. 
What monej- he had In his pockets, when 
the crash came, stayed there. I never 
heard of an assignee, register in bank- 
ruptcy or any other officer of the law 
getting his hands on any of it. The 
creditor always paid his own railroad 
fare, hotel bills, and register's bills, 
witiiout aid from the debtor. The debtor 
generally started a little business of his 
own, as soon as he got his discharge 
from all his former obligations. Tills 
was my experience, at least, and I have 
yet to hear of a creditor who came out 
any better than I did. "Old Times in 
Oildom" were indeed slippery times. Of 
about 40 lumber yard men, who ran 
lumber yards in these "old times" but 
two, to my knowledge, came out un- 
scathed. 

I'll give a couple of items now to 
prove the "sliperyness" of these times. 
One of my customers at that time, a car- 
penter, imbued with the spirit of the 
times, took the job of building an addi- 
tion to the Phillips hotel, owned by 
James E. Brown, the millionaire of Kit- 
tanning. The thrifty carpenter gave me 
the privilege of furnishing all of the 
lumber for this addition, amounting to 
about $800. When the job was finished, 
said carpenter collected the money from 
James E. Brown for the whole job and 
forgot to pay G. W. Brown for the lum- 
ber. 

My only hold was to take a mechanics 
lien on the building for my claim. I em- 
ployed a young lawyer, of Parker City, 
whose mind — at that time — was pretty 
well taken up in writing a novel, entitled 
"Platonic Love," to attend to the legal 
part of the transaction. This young 
lawyer wrote out a lien, and left out the 
township, county, state, and the United 
States, from the document. The young 
lawyer engaged an old lawyer, of stand- 
ing, in Clarion, to help him alon'g with 
the case. The old member of the Clar- 
ion bar, copied the lien, and added noth- 
ing to It. He did not commit any "sin 
of commission," but, with his young col- 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



17 



league, "committed the sin of omission." 
When the weelt of court came around, I 
toolt a wagon load of witnesses to Clar- 
ion, to prove that the lumber all went 
into the Phillips house improvement, and 
boarded them at the "Jones House" all 
week, and when Saturday came my suit 
was put over until the next term of 
court. When the next court came I had 
my wagon load of witnesses back, for 
another week's visit in the stilly streets 
of the sacred precincts of the old fash- 
ioned town of Clarion. After each wit- 
ness helping himself to well cooked 
viands spread out before him on Jones' 
table for a week, my suit came on Sat- 
urday. It required less than half a day 
to prove my claim all right, but after 
my brilliant lawyers had made a stiong 
speech in my favor, the opposing lawyer 
— Judge Campbell — arose in his majesty 
and pointed out the fact to my lawyers 
that they had presented a blank to the 
august court. Judge Jenks took the case 
from the jury before they left the box 
and they were deprived of their little 
visit in the jury room. My old Clarion 
lawyer jumped to his feet (said feet had 
been resting on a writing table) and ap- 
plied for a new trial. The judge prompt- 
ly refused, and that was the last of that 
lumber bill. I suppose the judge thought 
a lien that failed to state whether the 
hotel was located in England, America, 
or any other place, was not worthy of 
his attention. I learned one fact, though 
not worth $800 and other expenses, by 
this experience, and it is this: That I, 
as a Warren county man, failed to cope 
with Clarion county lawyers and judges. 
My second item is one showing luck, 
and no luck. One Saturday evening I 
took the paltry sum of $2,000 insurance 
on my lumber yard, worth about $7,000. 
Sunday about half of the city burned, 
taking in my lumber yard. When the 
news was telegraphed to me Monday 
morning, to my Youngsville home, I 
thought I had been lucky in getting the 
$2,000 insurance placed before the fire 
took place — but now comes the sequel. 



The company failed to come to time, and 
I got a tip from a reliable Are insurance 
agent that my company was a little 
"shaky." Then I hied me away to Phil- 
adelphia, tlie headquarters of the con- 
cern, where I found the president of tlie 
company, and after parleying for half a 
day, I received $540, which I considered 
a good thing for a company to do that 
would not be slated by the commissioner 
of insurance, who considered the com- 
pany insolvent. Some people think there 
is no place of punishment after death. 
I am not going to argue that question, 
but simply say that it is my belief, and 
hope, that there is some place, for some 
folks, called in the Bible — hell. 1*11 give 
your readers one of my reasons for 
thinking so. A m^n (I will not say a 
gentleman), had just finished a new ho- 
tel, before this fire spoken of here. He 
owed me $400 for windows, doors, etc., 
used in the construction of his hotel. He 
had $1,800 insurance on the building. I 
had a lien on the hotel and if the flre 
had held off one day the hotel would 
have been sold to satisfy the claim (if 
not in the meantime). But the flre set- 
tled the lien business. Tlien the man 
told me that he would certainly pay me 
when he received his $1,800 insurance. 
I saw him a short time afterwards, and 
he told me that he had received his in- 
surance money, but had invested it in 
junk, and that he would have returns in 
one month. He asked me to draw on 
him at the expiration of one month for 
$.50. I did so with not the least expecta- 
tion of having the draft honored and in 
a few days the draft came to the 
Youngsville Savings Bank, with these 
words written on the back: "Give Brown 
my love, and tell him to draw again." 
As I had — in the meantime — learned this 
man had smuggled his property out of 
his hands, I pocketed both the insult and 
loss. Now, dear reader, do you wonder 
that I desire a place of future punish- 
ment. Many, many men like this were 
inhabitants of the oil regions, and helped 
to make "old times in oildom" miserable. 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



CHAPTER X. 

JOHN GALEY AND THE ROBINSONS. 



A few items from the book of memory 
coneernins: "down at Parker" will make 
UD this tenth article. 

When the lumber business had become 
a little slow on Oil Creek the writer of 
this article transferred his rambling 
trade to the busy precincts of Parker's 
Landing. There the oil business brought 
together a most motely crowd. No oil 
town produced a more mixed crowd. No 
oil town produced so many rich oil farm- 
ers as did Parker. The Parkers, Robin- 
sons, Poxes, and scores upon scores of 
families were rich enough to live with- 
out oil, but when the oleaginous wealth 
was forced upon them they very meekly 
accepted it. Among the richest, both 
after and before striking oil, were the 
Robinsons. There were three brothers, 
and each had a sood. large farm, and 
every acre was g-ood oil territory. The 
piling of riches on these good natured 
and contented men did not set them up 
above poor folks. They always dressed 
well and had a e-entlemanly air about 
them not often found among ordinary 
farmers, and the strilving of dozens of 
big wells on their farms, when oil was 
worth $3.00 a barrel, made not the least 
difference in their dress and actions. It 
was always a comfort for your reporter 
to visit with any of the brothers, before 
and after the finding of oil on their 
farms. Nearly evervbodv has their fa- 
vorites, and one of these brothers had 
thi.s for his hobby. When he bought 
lumber of me he paid at the end of every 
month just as regular as the end of the 
month came. But the odd cents on the 
bill he would never pay. If the bill was 
$500.01 he would only pay $500, and if 
the bill was $1.99 he would only pay $1. 
He always drew the line on cents. He 
would never pay only even dollars, but 
would never find any fault with any bill, 
either large or small. He was one of my 
best customers while I kept a lum- 
ber yard at Parker City. While 
operating his large oil farm his 
monthly lumber bills ran very high, 
and in my four years' business 
I never was obliged to present a 
bill for payment. On the first day of 
each month he would call for his bill 
and write his check for even dollars. If 
all my customers in Parker had been 
Robinsons I would have been just about 
$10,000 ahead when I quit the lumber 
yard business. What a blessed world 
this would be if all the people were 
Robinsons. 



John H. Galey was one of the many 
business men of Parker at the time I 
speak of. John's history from that time 
to the present is well worth a brief men- 
tion. He was an active boy, as the run 
of boys go, generally. He had his eyes 
open for some kind of an oil trade. For 
awhile lie did not have his mind made 
up as to what kind of a trade it would 
be. Finally an operator put a well down 
on Stump Creek island, a mile above 
Parker. The operator struck a very good 
paying well and offered the island to 
Gailey for $10,000. John thought the 
matter over and made up his mind that 
$10,000, and more than that amount, 
could be pumped from that well, but to 
use his own words: "I had not the $10,- 
000, but went to Pittsburg and borrowed 
it and paid for the property, and I have 
taken from that and anotlier well which 
I put down on the same island $125,000, 
and I have run the wells only 18 months. 
They are producing nearly as much as 
ever and they make a nice little prop- 
erty." John went on making money 
hand over hand for a time, then he went 
far toward the setting sun and built a 
large, thriving town. One day, when he 
was away on business, the Indians came 
and wiped out his town. But John Galey 
was not the man to sit down and mourn 
over the loss of his wealth. The next I 
heard of him he plunged into the wilder- 
ness at Haymaker, McKean county, Pa., 
and leased a large amount of land far- 
ther north than any oil company had 
thought of going. He took that well- 
known and moneyed firm, the McKinney 
Bros., into the deal with him, and ere 
long Gailey was sailing along over finan- 
cial seas as gaily as ever before. The 
next time I met John was several years 
afterwards at one of his boarding houses, 
or houses where he boarded, near Oak- 
dale, Pa. This is the very strange story 
he told me on that occasion: "I came to 
McDonald a couple of years ago to lease 
gas territory for Guffey, Gailey & Co. 
No oil had been found in this section at 
that time. But thinking that this was 
gas territory I commenced at McDonald 
and made leases along this ridge for a 
distance of nearly three miles. Our strip 
is a little over a mile wide, on an aver- 
age. Now, every acre of it is the best 
oil territory in the McDonald field. I 
happened to keep right on the belt as 
near as if I had known just where the 
oil lay. A little side belt struck us oc- 
casionally, but run out just as soon as it 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



19 



crossed us. We have the largest wells 
in this field, one of them producing 16,- 
000 barrels a day when first struck (this 
is the old Matthews well). One well 
flowed 30,000 barrels before we could 
control it. The oil rushed down the creek 
through Nobletown, but luckily did not 
take fire. It is the most strange thing 



to me imaginable to think how I fol- 
lowed this belt so far, and then stopped 
at the end of it, when I was leasing gas 
territory, with no thoughts of oil. I 
cannot but think it almost a miracle." 

I'll give a few more items concerning 
the once famous Parker territory in 
chapter 11. 



CHAPTER XI. 



PARKER CITY. 



I take for my subject, in this 11th ar- 
ticle, Parker City. Who has not heard of 
Parker City? Certainly every oil man 
has become familiar with the name. 

This little city is one of the "has 
beens." It never will be the great oil 
center that it once was, but it might 
have been one of the best of its size in 
Western Pennsylvania, if not for the 
short sightedness of the original land 
holders. This remark applies particular- 
ly to "the flats," or First ward. 

When Mr. Fullerton Parker began to 
rent his land holdings along the river 
front, the oil business was so great that 
he could get nearly any price he put up- 
on it as rental. If one man did not give 
$10 a foot front as rent per year, an- 
other man would, and Mr. Parker did 
just what most any other man would in 
the same situation — put on a big price 
per year. He could get it, and it was 
worfh a big price. His mistake was in 
not selling the lots, and letting some- 
body beside himself pay part of the city 
taxes. This plan would have tied many 
business men to the young city, and they 
would have been residents to-day, in- 
stead of helping boom some other city. 
The selling of the lots would have been 
the best plan, as, with the united efforts 
of the many owners, the city would 
have had a steady growth, thereby grad- 
ually increasing the value of city prop- 
erty. 

This is no guess work. All travelers 
know that large towns are not found in 
bunches. As the traveler pas«;es through 
the country, at intervals of 40 or 50 
miles, he sees large towns. The shadow 
of a large town keeps the little towns 
weak and spindling. A little town don't 
grow much with a large town just close 
by to take all the trade away from the 
small town. This is one of the uncon- 
tradicted facts. Kittanning is far enough 
down the river and Franklin Is faf 
enough up the river to give Parker City 
an open field. No shadows from any di- 
rection would dwarf the growth of 
"pretty little Parker City," with its 



magnificent view of the swift running 
old Allegheny. Coal, oil, gas, timber 
and good soil are found all around the 
city. What more could be desired in the 
way of building up a lage city? It is a 
fact, known to every Parkerite, that when 
rents were up to fever pitch and business 
booming, there was no grumbling, but 
when business began to ajust itself to 
the decreasing output of the oil wells of 
the vicinity, rents were not adjusted. 

Your correspondent speaks from per- 
!-onal experience. He had paid $600 a 
year rent, for several years, on a few 
rods square of swamp land, as a spot 
to pile lumber on. The land was made 
usable by said correspondent hauling 
many loads of gravel into the swamp. 
By the application of this gravel, the 
land was made firm enough to hold up 
lumber. This expense was borne by the 
renter. But. as I said before, Mr. Parker 
was not considered an extortioner at this 
time, as he could get the high rent from 
other parties, if your scribe had not 
frozen to the lot. But the trouble came 
when business fell off nine-tenths, and 
your humble servant plucked up cour- 
age enough to approach W. C. Mobley. 
the superintendent and son-in-law of Mr. 
Fullerton Parker, and asked him, in view 
of the fact that the profits on sales of 
lumber would not pay the rent, to lower 
the rent a trifle. Mr. Mobley's answer 
was, "Not a cent." The result is easy 
to see. The lumber yard was obliged to 
close out business. 

This was the case with many other 
branches of business. Instead of the 
motto being carried out, "Live and Let 
Live," thereby holding the population, 
the motto, "Die and Let Die," was car- 
ried out, and Parker City missed its 
great opportunity. I'll mention a few 
points that will not be new to the old 
residents of the city. 

Before the bridge was built, John Mc- 
Laughlin and 'Squire Fulletron bought 
chain ferry, paying $8,000. It paid for 
itself in a few months, and made a hand- 
some fortune for the firm before the 



20 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



bridge took away their business. But, 
with business foresight, McLaughlin and 
Pullerton took a good slice of the bridge 
stock, and again piled up money. Squire 
Fullerton is now d^ad, but his widow 
lives on the "Bluff," where she can over- 
look the place of her late husband's 
victories. John McLaughlin built the 
Globe hotel and conducted it for several 
year, then sold it to his two sons, George 
and Will. Their father is connected with 
the natural gas business and lives at 
Murraysville, Pa. 

Who of the old operators but knew 
Fin Frisbee. "Fin," together with "Doc" 
Book, built the Central hotel. Oh, but 
that hotel did a great business. Just one 
little incident will prove this. I was a 
lodger one night, and by the noise below 
my slumbering place, I took it that the 
bar was doing quite a business. As I 
was used to noise, it did not deprive me 
of "nature's sweet restorer" — sleep. But 
"Curt" McKinney, of Titusville, did not 
fare so well. I stood in the office the 
next morning after the noise, when 
"Curt," (as he was called then, but now 
he is called Mr. McKinney), came down 
stairs and approached "Fin," who stood 
in the ofBce, wearing one of his con- 
tented smiles, and addressed him in this 
manner: "Mr. Frisbee, if you allow so 
much noise about your bar every night, 
as you did last night, I will not stop 
over night with you again." "Curt" said 
this with his usual earnestness. "Fin" 
looked up very much unconcerned, and re- 
plied: "I took in at the bar last night 
$500. I will not trade a noisy $500 at 
the bar for a quiet 50-cent lodging." 
Poor Frisbee. After becoming proprietor 
of the great Kent House at Lakewood, 
he sold out, and removed to Du- 
luth, where he added very ma- 
terially to his wealth, and bid a long 
farewell to his dollars and crossed over 
the river of death, to try an unknown ex- 
istence. If there are no hotels to be run, 
in that other life, "Fin" will be un- 
happy. 

I met Elisha Robinson on the street 
this morning. He is the same unassum- 



ing man of money that he was when his 
oil wells were forcing him to go to Pitts- 
burg every few days to deposit his piles 
of cash. He is the same true Christian 
gentleman yet that he was when, 33 
years ago, he would come as regular as 
a clock into my lumber office to pay his 
bills. If all my customers had been 
Elisha Robinsons I would have $10,000 
more money to-day than I have. And his 
brother, "Sam," still clings to this ter- 
ritorial ball, which means that another 
good, honest, rich man still lives. Both 
brothers are tilling the soil, the same as 
before that same soil poured forth rivers 
of oil. Elisha has his affections fixed, 
this spring, on a piece of hoarded land 
that he will clear up this coming sum- 
mer and put in a state of cultivation. 

Fullerton Parker, who was monarch of 
all he surveyed in this city in its palmy 
day, has, with many other pioneers, been 
"gathered to his fathers," but his man- 
sion on the "Bluff," still overlooks the 
city, which bears his name. There are 
Parkers and Parkers here yet, but they 
are not of the old settlers. You have one 
in Oil City (William Parker, who is re- 
membered here as the owner of the old 
"Rob Roy" well at Karns City, which 
produced nearly 150,000 barrels of oil 
and put nearly as many dollars into the 
pockets of its owner). There were very 
few "Rob Roys." None ever came and 
stopped with me. The "Rob Roy" spoken 
of above, gave Oil City an ornament, in 
the great brick mansion of "Bill"' Parker. 
It is lucky for noted Oil City that such 
men as Mr. Parker gravitated in its di- 
rection, when they became too rich to 
stay anywhere else. 

And now, let me close this article by 
saying that if Parker is not the Parker 
of old it bears unmistakable signs of 
former prosperity in its five good 
churches, line brick school building, 
water works, bank and many substantial 
buildings that were paid for when money 
was no object. For this and many other 
blessings the Parker of to-day has rea- 
son to be thankful. So mote it be. 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



21 



CHAPTER XII. 



OIL CITY SIXTY YEARS AGO. 



Talk about old times! Why the in- 
habitants, the younger ones, know 
ones, know very little of the growth, 
from the beginning, to the present. I 
was born within 10 miles of the Drake 
well, or the first well drilled, 80 years 
ago in Centerville, Crawford county, Pa., 
and had the pleasure of seeing its pro- 
duction for the first two days, and the 
same with the second well, right across 
the creek from the Drake well, on the 
John Watson farm. This second well, 
known as the Williams well, made much 
more of a splurge than the Drake well. 
It sent the oily flui^ many feet skyward, 
with a vim which the natives of this 
corner of God's footstool never dreamed 
of. The natives, your humble servant 
not excepted, were nearly dumb. The 
Inhabitants of that period had never 
seen oil in all its glory before. The in- 
habitants along oil creek had smelled It, 
inasmuch as a few drops of it would oc- 
casionally ooze through the ground. I, 
myself, at that time lived here at 
Youngsville, Warren county. Pa., on the 
banks of the Brokenstraw creek. For 
many years, before the time of striking 
the first oil well, I had made trips down 
the Allegheny river, on lumber rafts, 
nearly every time the water came to a 
rafting stage. Always when passing the 
mouth of Oil creek, a strong "Seneca oil' 
smell came floating on the air. That 
was all there was to it — just a smell. 
Compare that smell with the present oil 
business, if you can. I leave it to any 
living man or woman to make the com- 
parison. I will not attempt it. 

Oil City, at that time, consisted of a 
grist mill, hotel, one little store and 
two dwelling houses. The hotel was the 
most pretentious building of the town. 
It lacked "a small trifle" of being a mate 
to the Arlington of to-day, in size and 
equipment, but bore the same name of 
the "best hotel In town." The old, and 
Indeed most of the young inhabitants of 
the "Hub of Oildom," have seen the old 
Moran house, at the lower end of the 
city. That one hotel was the real money- 
maker of the town. When a good raft- 
ing stage was on, the man that got a 
good bed to sleep in had to be on hand 
early in the afternoon, as quite a while 
before dark the Allegheny fleets — or 
rafts — would begin to tie up for the 
night, in Oil creek eddy. Before dark, 
the river would be filled nearly to the 
opposite shore, with rafts from almost 
every place on the Allegheny river from 



Oil City to Coudersport. The main points 
from which these rafts came were Tio- 
nesta, Irvineton, Warren, Jamestown, 
N. T.; Kinzua, Pa.; Corydon, Pa.; Sala- 
manca, N. Y. ; Tununingwant, Pa.; 
Olean, N. T.; Port Allegheny, Pa., and 
Coundersport, Pa. The reader will see 
that the Keystone and Empire states 
divided the honor of furnishing this 
great river trade. This was caused by 
the river starting in Pennsylvania, and 
straying off into the state of New Tork, 
but finding the Yankees no better than 
the Dutch Pennsylvanians, the waters 
strayed back into the parent state, and 
commingling with the waters of the 
Monongahala, slowly and peacefully 
wended their way through the slave 
country of the south to the sea. 

Speaking of rivers, let me say, fearing 
it may slip from my memory, that years 
ago, I sat in the office of a hotel, on 
Keating Summit, Potter county. Pa., and 
gazed on the drops of rain falling on 
one inch of ground, where it divided, a 
part going into the Atlantic and a part 
into the Gulf of Mexico. The question 
In my mind was, which part will reach 
salt water first? But I am getting off 
the subject of "Old Times in Oildom." 
To make it plain to the readers of this 
article, I will say that the old Moran 
house was not supposed to hold all the 
hardy men that manned the oars which 
guided this large number of rafts. The 
"hands" which did the work at the end 
of those oar stems, generally rested after 
their hard day's work, in a raft shanty, 
which was anything but a shield against 
rain and snow, being constructed of 
green boards, roof and all. This shanty 
was built for but a short period of ser- 
vice. Only for a place for perhaps a 
dozen men to sleep in, for a week or two, 
according to the distance floated. There 
was one man to watch the raft until sold 
and delivered. Only the owner of the 
raft and the pilot indulged in the luxury 
of a bed in the far-famed Moran hotel. 
Sometimes a "hand," leaning a little to- 
ward dudishness, would mix in with the 
above named owners and pilots, and in- 
vest a quarter of a dollar in a "downy" 
bed. I don't speak from experience re- 
garding "downy beds," because in my 
youthful days, I considered myself as 
belonging "to the Brotherhood of man," 
and I always slept, spoon fashion, In a 
board bunk, partly filled with straw, in 
the shanty. 

Before leaving this subject, I wish to 



22 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



mention the fact, that old-time raftsmen 
seemed to be of the old fogy class, in re- 
gard to inventions. Speaking within 
reasonable bounds, the lumber men of 
the days gone by, for 50 years at least, 
practised the most foolish methods of 
landing their rafts. As the evening be- 
gan to appear, the raft was rowed into 
the first eddy approached and tied to a 
nearby tree or stump, or anything that 
would hold the raft quietly until morning 
and until the "hands" had got out from 
the straw, in the shanty bunks, and ap- 
peased their keen appetites on potatoes, 
meat, generally salt pork, and bread. 
Then the pilot would exclaim in a sort 
of commanding voice, "untie that cable," 
and away Pittsburgward would go the 
raft and crew. 

And now come in the foolishness, 
practiced for a half century. The rope 
or cable used for tieing up the raft was 
from one and one-half inches to two 
inches in diameter, perhaps from 100 to 
3 00 feet long. The raft was pulled to 
the shore and a strong hand would pick 
up that tremendously heavy rope, which 
lay coiled up like a great anaconda, and 
would struggle up a generally steep bank, 
run to the nearest tree with all of the 
rope that had not been pulled away from 
him by the downward movement of the 
raft. One end of the rope was tied tight 
to the raft. By the time that the out- 
of-breath man on shore could get a good 
"half hitch" on that tree, two-thirds or 
more of ihe rope was usually dragging 
in the water. Then the man ashore would 
let go of the cable, and a man on the 
raft would pull it onto the raft, and 
throw one end to the man on shore and 
the same foolish work would be repeat- 
ed over and over until all hands were 
completely exhausted, and the lower end 
of the eddy reached, if the eddy was long 



enough. But many times, in a short 
eddy, the raft defied all efforts to land 
it, and it ploughed the water all night. 

After about a half century of this 
kind of work, the so-called "KenduU- 
tuckyans" taught the so-called sharp 
Yankees how to land a raft. Those 
Kentuckians would take a 1,000-foot 
inch and a half rope, and coil it up on 
the rear end of their acre raft of logs, 
put in a snubbing post, near the rope, 
and when they wished to land they 
would paddle the raft a shore with their 
great long oars; then one of the "hands" 
would jump ashore, and the man on the 
raft would quietly hand him one end of 
that light, long rope. The man ashore 
would then take a "half hitch," and sit 
down and hold onto the end of the rope 
until the raft was stopped. Many times 
not half the rope was used at the first 
hitch. After the "lapse of years," the 
"Yanks" caught on and we have enjoyed 
the work of landing lumber rafts ever 
since. Why, it is one of the wonders 
of the world that those early day rafts- 
men did not discover this simple, easy 
way of landing a swift running raft. 
The shover of this pencil belonged to 
those slow learners. The first time I 
ever saw the new way of landing, I took 
the lesson from my Kentucky brother 
raftsman. At that time I saw those men 
land about one acre of logs at the first 
hitch, on the Ohio river. 

Of course I am talking about almost a 
thing of the past. But little lumber 
has been rafted to the markets since the 
"iron horse" made his appearance. Of 
course, said iron horse don't reach every 
lumber mill in the country even now, 
and once in a while when he fails to 
make his appearance, the water trans- 
portation takes his place. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

JACK McCRAY. 



I'll commence my 13th article by say- 
ing a few words about "Jack" Mc- 
Cray, one of the pioneers of the 
oil country. He owned a farm, th3 
south line of which came within 
a few rods of the Drake well. 
When the Drake well was struck, leas- 
ers came to him by the dozen. His was 
a large farm, lying between the John 
Watson farm and the Drake well. "Jack" 
laid out his land in acre leases, on which 
he charged $100 bonus and a royalty of 
one-fourth the oil. The writer of this 
secured two leases at these figures, and 



soon found himself out of pocket $200. 
As the wells were kicked down by the 
aid of a spring pole those days, there 
were more leasers than operators. Many 
more men planked down their money and 
signed contracts than put down wells. 
After many weeks of kicking by stal- 
^•art men, dry holes would turn up in 
disagreeable numbers, discouraging the 
many would-be operators, myself among 
the number, and in the course of time, 
"Jack' had more copies of leases than 
Interests in oil wells. The oil belt seem- 
ed to follow Oil Creek down toward the 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



23 



"mouth of the creek," instead of 
going up Pine creek, over McCray's land, 
as the old wells of Captain Funk, Noble 
& Delamater, Phillips and many others 
testified. But "Jack," with his bonus in 
his pocket, became the owner of the fa- 
mous McCray hotel, where speculators 
from the east, west, north and south, 
were wont to assemble to talk over what 
was a business at that time, to fnem, 
of an unknown quantity. "Jack" was 
soon known all over this country by his 
attempt at a laugh composed of two 
syllables — or the same sound given 
twice — "Cha-cha." The two sounds came 
often, as he was of a very jovial dispo- 
sition. No one, either by seeing or hear- 
ing, would know that this noise was 
meant for a laugh, as not a muscle of 
his face moved. Yet these indescribable 
sounds did duty as a sign of merriment 
on his part. 

"Jack" kept spanking good race horses 
and driving teams, and made the most 
of life for many years, then struck ofC 
into the wilds of Forest county, as gen- 
eral manager of a large lumber company 
and pioneered the pine lumber business 
for many, many years. He "grew up 
with the country." He was elected and 
served one term as associate judge of 
the Forest county court. His name wili 
be handed down to all future genera- 
tions. During his residence in this wild 
county of Forest, a postoflSce was lo- 
cated in his township, which is named 
McCray, and when the B. & O. railroad 
was built, the station was named Mc- 
Cray in honor of the judge. When all 
the nice timber was cut into lumber and 
shipped away from his jurisdiction, it 
became too quiet for a man of his ambi- 
tion and he hied himself back to his old 
stamping grounds — Titusville — and soon 
bid farewell to all mundame things, and 
crossed over the unknown river where, 
perhaps, there are no oil wells or lumber 
mills. 

Pithole comes vividly to my mind just 
now. My first visit to this mushroom 
city was an experience. I found a daily 
newspaper, railroad, telegraph office, 
opera house, many hotels and boarding 
houses and everything that goes to make 
up a modern city. The people of the 
village said the population was about 
25,000. I did not believe it then and 1 
do not believe it now. But there was a 
"right smart" of people there for a three 
month's old city in the woods. I put up 
at the most tony hotel in the city, and 
had water biscuits, half baked, for sup- 
per. Although I registered about 3 
o'clock p. m., all the beds were engaged 
for the night. But the obliging clerk 
told me he would provide a place for me 
to sleep. When bed time came this smil- 
ing clerk took a lantern, and by its dim 
light, I was led to the barn and handed 



a blanket, by the said clerk, who told me 
to "climb that ladder" and I would find 
pletnty of hay at the top of the mow to 
make a bed of. I did as directed and 
about 40 feet skyward I found plenty of 
hay, and also men that had proceeded 
me to the roosting place as patrons of 
this hotel. I found a vacant place among 
the snoring crowd. Mingled with the 
unmistakable smell of bad whisky. But 
morning came at last, and also a dose 
of the hot biscuit. When the bill was 
paid I found the modest charge of $1 
for each meal and 75 cents for lodging. 
After breakfast I hired a little bunty 
saddle horse, to ride to McCrea's Land- 
ing — four miles distant. When I return- 
ed the obliging livery man charged me 
only $5 for the use of the little animal, 
about three hours. There was never but 
one Pithole. Just think of a six-fool 
gauge railroad being built four miles to 
Oleopolis and then dismantled in a few 
short months. The last time that I 
passed through Pithole I saw but two 
occupied houses. As that was 20 years 
ago, it is dollars to cents, if there is one 
house there now. In the palmy days of 
Pithole considerable oil was put in bar- 
rels and towed up the river to the P. & 
S. railroad, at Irvineton. 

I loaded a boat with shingles for the 
mouth of Pithole creek and accompanied 
the crew of five down to the place of de- 
lievry. After we got the shingles off the 
boat was loaded with barrels of oil. The 
five men rolled barrels nearly all day. 
Two young coopers were tightening the 
hoops on the barrels on shore. The five 
brawny boatmen kept nagging the coop- 
ers and poking fun at them all day. One 
was an Irishman and the other a Dutch- 
man. I stood on the high bank of the 
river, late in the afternoon. I heard the 
young Irishman say, "You have made 
fun of us all day and now we are going 
to pay you for it." With this exclama- 
tion on his lips, both coopers jumped and 
ran onto the boat and in five minutes the 
two coopers had five big boatmen badly 
whipped. Two of them ran, but they 
were soon overtaken and knocked down. 
A part of the boatmen called tnemselves 
great fighters a few hours before the 
coopers got their "dander up.' We did 
not hear anything more about pugilistic 
achievements after this battle. The 
boatmen did not dare to let their boat 
lie at the landing that night, but hitched 
on their horses and towed it two miles 
up the river and spent the night out of 
range of the coopers. All this was an 
1 object lesson — showing what can be done 
j by courage, displayed by the weaker 
: party. And this reminds me of a similar 
I case that came under my observation at 
I Reno, at the time General Burnside was 
I building his railroad over the hills and 
I through the valleys to Plumer. The 



24 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



railroad workers were gathered in a 
crowd at the junction of the wildcat 
road with the junction of the Atlantic & 
Great Western road. A lively discus- 
sion arouse on some question among 
them and one stalwart young Irishman 
took it into his head to whip the whole 
crowd, and he did juat what he under- 
took to do. He just walked around 
among those laborers and knocked down 
every one that came within reach of 
him. After this general knockdown busi- 
ness had gone on about five minutes, the 
boss, a big finely developed man, belong- 
ing to the same country of the fighter, 
with a big plug hat on, stepped up to 
the pugilistic gentleman and commanded 
him to desist from his dangerous pas- 



time. The fighter struck out, square 
from the shoulder, and sent the boss 
down among the other victims of this 
young man's rage. His plug hat rolling 
and tumbling another rod ahead of him. 
The boss struggled to his feet and stood 
as a quiet witness, until the fight ended 
for lack of more men to knock down, and 
the whole circus ended right there and 
then, with the young Hercules standing 
peacefully in the crowd — with a victori- 
ous smile on his face and no one to 
question his title to the name of boss 
knocker. He was another exemplifica- 
tion of the power of one man, energeti- 
cally applied, that is fresh in my mind 
to the present day. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

A GREEDY LANDLORD. 



What shall I say in this article? The 
reader may think I have run out of mater- 
ial by this time, but let the reader consider 
that a man who was born before such 
things as railroads, telegraph lines, trol- 
ley lines, steamboats, telephones, ocean 
cables, mail delivery routes, flying ma- 
chines, sewing machines, mowing ma- 
chines, oil, gas, automobiles. elec- 
tric power and many other things that I 
could mention came into use, ought to 
konw more tlian would fill a small book. 
The young men and women of the present 
time may well wonder how human be- 
ings could get along without the things 
above mentioned. But they did get along 
6,000 years before these conveniences 
came to help mankind in general. 

When I was a boy a party of young 
men and young ladies would get into a 
big box filled with straw, on a pair of 
wooden bobsleds, drawn by old "Buck 
and Jerry," a faithful yoke of oxen, and 
go on a snail's gallop miles upon miles 
to a dance, in zero weather, with as light 
hearts and as much — or more — merri- 
ment than is now shown in automobile 
loads of young heirs to millions of dol- 
lars. A man worth $10,000 was consid- 
ered as great a man as a multi-million- 
aire is at the present time. I think as 
to happiness, perhaps these old-time 
young people had the best of it. The ox 
teams never killed anybody. As much 
cannot be said in favor of the automo- 
biles. Many people of great wealth have 
passed to the other life on account of 
their wealth. A poor man or woman 
cannot own one of these man-killers. 
Human life is much safer behind an ox- 
team than behind an automobile. Of 



course a certain few. and very few, 
owned horses and buggies, but they 
stood no higher in society than ox-team 
people. There were no distinction or 
classes, at that time. All stood on the 
same level. There was not wealth 
enough in the country to make it worth 
while to draw a distinction. There are 
so many cliques and classes, nowadays, 
that when either class gets up any kind 
of an entertainment it is a puzzle to the 
"committee" to know who to invite. This 
troublesome puzzle did not come in at 
the time of which I write, consequently 
they had more room for unalloyed hap- 
piness. 

Where the hilarity came, in the old 
times, was at the country corn husking 
or apple-paring bees. The patent apple 
dryer was not invented and the main de- 
pendence was a pocket knife. The un- 
sophisticated young man was right at 
home, and perfectly contented, when, 
sitting beside his best girl, with a pan 
of apples on his knees, pocket knife in 
hand, removing the skin from the 
luscious apples, and his intended life 
partner, busily engaged in stringing the 
nicely quartered apples as they came 
from the nimble knives. Whole evenings 
would be spent in perfect contentment 
on the part of both. In fact, the longer 
the apples lasted the better. When bush- 
els of apples were nicely pared and 
strung ready for hanging all around the 
fireplace — no stoves then to take up 
room in a house — a nail could be driven 
anywhere into a wall, then a halt would 
be called and refreshments served by 
the good lady of the farmhouse. After 
devouring the "nick-nacks" the time. 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



25 



generally running into the morning 
hours, would be spent in dancing, or 
playing "snap and catch 'em," "the mill 
goes round," "chase the squirrel," and 
dozens of these innocent plays. If I am 
a good judge, more harmony existed then 
than now. A good and substantial rea- 
son for this is easy to be seen. The 
people never had heard or dreamed of 
these luxuries or conveniences of the 
present time, therefore they did not 
quarrel and wrangle over these things. 

I have been writing, so far in these 
articles, about older times, not oil times, 
as no oil was dreamed of then. I 
now will come down to oil times. Speak- 
ing of dancing, I should have said in 
the right place, that no quadrille had 
been invented when I first kept time to 
Arthur McKinney's single fiddle — that 
was what we called it then. It is now 
called a violin. We had no caller either. 
The dancers bossed themselves. "We 
learned to get through the "Opera Reel," 
"Money Musk," "French Four" and many 
other "country" dances. Each dancer 
was a self-taught scholar. All good 
da,ncers had learned their pieces "by 
heart," and but few mistakes were made. 
The writer remembers his first venture 
on the dancing floor. He selected one of 
the best looking and smartest girls in 
the room for a partner. She knew her 
business to a "t" and so did all the rest 
except the writer. But, grabbing every 
hand extended to him, hopping back and 
forth, as the other seven in the set did, 
turning every corner in the imitation of 
my partner, and keeping not very good 
time to McKinney's fiddle, I came off 
victorious. I had won my first ball room 
bai Je. But I was not a real independent 
dancer yet. I had followed the motions 
of others and had before me the many 
figures to learn before becoming a full- 
fledged dancing beaux. But, as in most 
of the undertakings of this life, perse- 
verance won, and ere many moons I 
knew where to go without being di- 
rected. 

I must mention one dance given in 
Parker City, soon after oil was struck. 
I was in the lumber business and oc- 
casionally visited the place before it was 
a city. At each visit I stopped at the 
same hotel. One evening I registered as 
usual and soon learned that a big ball 
was to come oft that night. The pro- 
prietor of the hotel offered to find lodg- 
ing for me outside ' the noise of his 
dance. I told him not to take the trou- 
ble, as the noise would not disturb my 
slumbers in the least. This landlord had 
engaged two violinists from Bradys 
Bend. There was not a violinist at Par- 
ker City at that time. The musicians 
were promptly on hand; also a big crowd 
of dancers. About 11 p. m. one of the 
musicians received a telegram calling 
him home immediately on account of 



the death of a relative. He lost no time 
in catching the Pittsburg train that was 
just ready to leave the Parker depot. As 
the absent violinist was caller of the 
quadrilles his partner was left in a bad 
shape. The band was also left in a bad 
fix, with two violins and but one player, 
and the player could not call one 
quadrille. I had played and called 
quadrilles for 25 years, but nobody in 
Parker City knew it. The landlord told 
me that he would be obliged to pay a 
part of the money back to that large 
crowd if he stopped the program half 
finished. The milk of human kindness 
began to flow in my veins, and to save 
this clever landlord from making such a 
sacrifice, I told him that I could fill the 
place of the absent musician. To say 
that he was pleased would be putting 
it lightly. He smiled all over his face 
and I took up the absent man's work, 
and saved a breakup of the ball. I lost 
my full night's sleep. I got a couple of 
hours sleep in the morning, and that 
landlord charged me 50 cents for sup- 
per, 50 cents for lodging and 50 cents 
for breakfast, and I paid it without a 
word — just the same as he always had 
charged me when I had not saved $100 
for him. However, this fiddler never 
stayed another night at that hotel after 
paying for the privilege of saving the 
collapse of the big ball. 

Now, for the purpose of showing the 
hardships and trials of the early settlers 
in this part of the country, I recite one 
circumstance which came to my own 
family. Many years before the Phila- 
delphia & Erie railroad was built through 
Garland, my folks lived there, when I 
was a boy 8 years old, 73 years ago. 
Flour of all kinds became scarce. There 
was none to be found in the valley of 
the Brokenstraw; none of the stores the 
whole length of the valley had any meal 
of any kind. Our folks had used the last 
in the house and starvation stared us in 
the face We had kind neighbors, but 
they were nearly as bad off as we were, 
so we could not rely upon borrowing. 
The morning after the last flour had 
been used my father, very much dis- 
couraged, started out from home to see 
his neighbors and talk with them. The 
first neighbor he met told him that a 
man from Titusville was coming that 
day to the valley of the Brokenstraw 
with a wagon load of flour. The man 
was to take the shortest route through 
Enterprise and over Cole Hill, leaving 
about four miles to be traveled to reach 
the route of the "bread line." My faith- 
ful father took the tramp with an emp- 
ty bag on his arm and reached a place 
on the Titusville road called the "Bircli 
Springs" before the eagerly looked-for 
wagon came along. When it did arrive 
father purchased, at a high price, 100 
pounds of nice wheat flour and carried 



26 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



it on his shoulder the four miles to his 
anxiously waiting wife and three chil- 
dren. We — the children — looked upon 
our father as a sort of saviour, and our 
exclamations of joy must nave been to 
him part pay for his labor of love. You, 
of the present age of all kinds of 
vehicles, can form but a faint conception 
of the labor and suffering- of the early 
pioneers of this country. Long: before 
the discovery of oil or gas, O, what a 
change! In the days spoken of above 
in order to have light at night the house- 
wife would melt a cake of tallow, savod 
from butchering time, and pour it into 
tin molds — let it harden in a cool place 
— warm it by the wood fire, and pull 
them out of the molds. Rather a nice 
looking candle, but a poor light giver. 
In place of matches, which were un- 
known then, a sliver would be lighted in 
the stone chimney fireplace and applied 
to the wick of the candle, and an alleged 
light, which would burn a little while, 
would be produced. Every now and then 
the tallow would burn too far below the 
top of the wick. The light would be too 
dim for weak eyes, then a pair of iron 
nippers would be used in clipping off the 
surplus burnt wick. I can almost see 
the change now that would take place in 
the light as I sat reading, when someone 
would say "Snuff the candle." Another 
way of making candles was to tie cot- 
ton wicks about two inches apart on 
sticks and dip a dozen at a time in the 
hot tallow, and after the tallow cooled, 
dip again, and continue to dip and cool 
until the candle was large enough to 
suit the taste of the dipper, then lay 
tliem away for use. This last mentioned 
was named "a tallow dip." One of these 
made about as much light as a full- 
grown lightning bug. Compare this 
manner of lighting with the present 
manner. Now you strike a friction 
match and touch it to the wick of your 
gas fixture and instantaneousl5- your 
room is as light as day. And if you are 
too lazy to turn it off when you retire 
let it burn — it needs no snuffing if it 
burns a month or a year. The difference 
between "the light of other days" and 
the present is beyond my ability to de- 
scribe. 

And there is still more difference in 
the heating of a house. Then, no matter 
how deep the snow, the oxen were yoked 
up and driven to the nearby woods. A 
hardwood tree, maple, beach, birch, hick- 
ory, oak, ash, or any hardwood, that en- 
cumbered the ground was used. The 
driver of the oxen would chop a tree 
down, trim the limbs off from top to 
bottom, hitch the ox chain to it and 
take the whole tree to the house and 
"the man of the house" would chop it 
up to the desired length (generally about 
four feet, owing to the size of the open 



fireplace). You begin to think now that 
these fire logs would have a little snow 
on them. Well, you make a good guess. 
When put upon the live coal you could 
hardly distinguish those logs from snow- 
balls, but by adding a little dry kindling 
wood to this snow fire a warm room 
would soon be the result. The half is 
not told yet. No stoves were in use 
then. The danger of sparks fiying out 
of that open fireplace at night was a 
.sleep-destroyer for nervous people, taut 
custom will do great things and as ali 
were accustomed to tliis danger a great 
majority of the people gave it but little 
thought. They got used to it like the 
people of Etna and Vesuvius, who build 
the villages on the courses of the dry 
lava streams. I never lost a moment's 
sleep by reason of the thought that a 
spark might come sailing across the 
room at any time and make a bonfire 
of my bed. Many is the time tiiat I 
have heard the snap of the red hot log 
and seen the burning coal light on the 
floor without any nervousness on my 
part. Each chimney had a stone hearth 
from two to four feet wiae for the 
sparks and coals to fall upon, trusting 
to the Great Ruler of All Things to ar- 
rest tlie flight of sparks or coals before 
it passed over these flat stone protectors. 
But, as all old settlers are aware, the 
coal was governed by force that sent it. 
.\s many passed beyond this imaginary 
line as stopped on the hearth, but as 
there were no carpets the danger of fir- 
ing the house was much lessened. I have 
many and many a time seen a parlor 
floor covered with black spots caused 
by hot coals not hot enough to burn 
clear through an inch board and set the 
house on fire. And strange to say, there 
were but few of those log dwellings 
burned from the cause mentioned above. 
This statement is hardly believable un- 
der the circumstances. How could any 
one of the present day go off upstairs 
and quietly lie down and go to sleep 
to tlie music of popping logs and flying 
coals downstairs? Although tamillarized 
wlien young it would disturb my nervous 
system now when old. 

Before lea\ing this firewood question, 
I will just tell "one" on the old settlers. 
Tliey never, except a very small num- 
ber, cut their firewood a few months In 
advance and let it dry before using. They 
cut their wood — a tree at a time — as de- 
scribed above, all winter long, instead 
of cutting it about a third of a year bv;- 
fore burning and letting it dry and then 
putting it under a roof where no snow 
could reach it, thus saving the trouble 
of compelling green wood to burn, and 
saving dollars and dollars. I'll explain. 
With green wood, when you want a little 
fire you must build a big fire. You must 
put in lots of kindling, then pile on 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



27 



many sticks of green wood before you 
can possibly get a fire hot enough to boil 
a teakettle. In the summer time you 
have a hot fire, in a hot house, and must 
wait until it burns itself out when you 
have no use for it. On the other hand, 
you can lay one stick on a few remaining 
coals and It will blaze up immediately 
and boil your teakettle, and one stick 
of wood is soon consumed and you have 
a cool house. No one can afford to burn 
green wood. The cost is more than 
double, to say nothing about the conven- 
ience of the dry wood. As in nearly ev- 
erything, there has been a great change 
in the wood business. Now a large ma- 
jority of the farmers cut their wood, dty 
it, and house it as carefully as thoy do 
their hay for their stock, thus keeping 
pace with the improvements of the age. 
Now and then a farmer sticks to the old 
wasteful way of "from hand to mouth." 
What I have been saying does not, of 
course, apply to us lucky ones who live 
along natural gas lines. All we have to 
do is to touch a match to our gas burn- 
er in a stove and instantly we have a 
fire that will burn without touching 
again for a day, week, month, year or 
five years. How is it possible to appre- 
ciate natural gas for cooking, lighting 



or heating? Our minds are not capable 
of measuring the distance between 80 
years ago and to-day in the question of 
of light and heat. I have left out a part 
of this article. But it is not too late 
yet to make amends. I mentioned the 
fact of no matches being invented, in 
the old times, but failed to describe the 
substitute. We took a piece of hard 
stone called a flint, then struck the flint 
with the back of a knife, or any piece 
of steel, a slanting blow and the fire 
would fly, dropping on to a piece of punk 
held under the flint. How often have I 
seen men "striking fire" when not a live 
coal could be found about the house! 
Everybody depended upon the fiint as 
much as we now depend upon matches. 
The punk that was used to catch the fire 
from the sparks was taut rotten knots 
taken from old hardwood logs and dried 
and kept as carefully as we now keep 
matches. Hunters in the woods were 
never without the punk and flint. In 
fact, anyone who ever expected to need 
a fire carried these two things. I cannot 
say where the flint came from, but they 
were made of very hard stone, as clear 
and resembling common glass. The flint 
in flint-lock guns was made of the same 
material. 



CHAPTER XV. 

WHEN OIL CITY WAS A SHANTY TOWN. 



When I was younger than I am now, 
and when Oil City was younger than it 
Is now, I helped "Smith & Alison" in 
their lumber business, all one summer. 
The manner of handling lumber at that 
time was crude in the extreme. A raft 
would be run down the river and tied up 
lielow the old gristmill. As no such a 
thing as a brick house was thought of 
at that time, a large number of boards 
were used in building what passed for a 
dwelling place. These houses wei-e con- 
structed by putting up a frame of hewed 
pine timbers — no scantling balloon 
frames were in vogue at that time — then 
nailing rough boards on the outside, af- 
ter which "battens," about three inches 
wide, were nailed over the cracks. Lath- 
ing and plastering were not a part of 
the make-up of an ordinary dwelling 
house at that time. When the mercury 
fell to zero, accompanied by a north 
wind. Jack Frost found it easy to pene- 
trate the best abodes of the few people 
living within the limits of the present 
Oil City of fine, warm homes. Store- 
rooms and all business places were con- 
structed in the manner described above. 



When nothing but Cranberry coal and 
wood were used for ' heating purposes, 
the reader has only to guess at the dis- 
comforts of the pioneers. No anthracite 
coal — no railroad to bring it in— no 
electric lights, no gas lights, and none 
but oil lamps, fashioned in a crude state, 
was the fate of the founders of Oil City. 
Many old people are alive to-day who 
can appreciate what is printed here, but 
the young folks of the present will sim- 
ply have to guess at the hardships and 
inconveniences of "Old Times inOildom." 
It is not possible for me to guide my 
awkward pencil in giving a description 
of all- the hardships endured by the 
founders of this tremendous and present 
great oil business. Just let the rising 
generation look at the Oil City of to-day, 
and then let them try to imagine how 
the people got along without a bridge of 

i any kind across the river — only one lit- 
tle chain ferry, nearly up to Siverlyville; 
an island in the middle of the river, 
about where the covered bridge now 
stands; an Island covered with a crop of 
corn, accessible to skiffs. One could row 

I a skiff from the north side of the river 



28 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



to this island, then lead it through the 
eddy at the lower end of the cornfield, 
then from there to the south side of the 
river, thus getting across the Allegheny 
without paying a chain ferry fee. But 
what would anyone go across for? They 
would only see one farm, with one old 
house, and barn to match, on that side 
of the river. But few people crossed 
the river, owing to the fact that there 
were but few people to cross. Well, I'm 
wandering again; I'll get back to the 
early lumber business. 

"Smith & Allison's" lumber yard was 
located where the Arlington hotel now 
stands. Not all the lumber they handled 
was piled there. The largest share of it 
was sold on the river beach. A teamster 
would back his wagon down into the 
water, against the raft, and load the 
lumber on the wagon, and drive directly 
to the spot where it was used, thereby 
saving a double handling. My business 
was to measure the lumber as fast as 
loaded, and report at the office. The 
office was located just about where the 
obliging clerk of the Arlington now rakes 
in the sheckles. One teamster, in par- 
ticular, deserves "special mention" here. 
He was familiarly called "Nigger Jim.' 
He was a well-to-do colored man. He 
owned the team of horses that he drove, 
and a house and lot, about half way to 
Siverly. Jim worked like a man of busi- 
ness. When he was wanted he was al- 
ways there. He had a black skin, but a 
white heart. It was necessary to wade 
in the water while getting the bottom 
course of each raft, and float the boards 
to shore, so that a teamster would keep 
his feet dry. This wetting of feet came 
to the measurer as an offset to the easy 
work that was his. For several days I 
was "rather under the weather" and 
hardly able to work. This came to Jim's 
ears, and he, unasked, jumped into the 
water and for a week he would not let 
me get my feet wet. I never met Jim 
after that without giving him the warm 
hand of fellowship. For many years I 
have not met Jim. I don't know whether 
he is alive or not, but I hope is alive 
and prospering as of old. Perhaps there 
are teamsters with a white skin that 
would be just as kind under the circum- 
stances, but I never happened to find 
them. The kind deeds of "Nigger Jim" 
will never vanish from my memory. 

Ballard's barrel piles were one of the 
many wonders of the oil business. The 
empty oil barrels were made up the 
river somewhere, in "York state" — and 
tied together, in great rafts, and floated 
to Oil City. One "barrel yard" was lo- 
cated just across the street in front of 
where the Arlington hotel now stands. 
I will not try to give the height of the 
pile of barrels, generally on hand, but 
will say that the tip top of the pile 
pointed skyward, to about the same de- 



gree as the present Chambers block. Mr. 
Ballard's barrels found a ready sale, 
until the advent of tank cars and pipe 
lines. Then the great pile melted away 
and gave place to large business blocks, 
which are an honor to the city and a 
source of income to the owners. 

To return to Smith & Allison. Mr. 
Smith built the first dwelling house on 
Cottage hill. The people called him "a 
fool for building up in that cornfield," 
where he would be compelled to walk — 
or climb — to his rather imposing looking 
home. Years, and years ago, Mr. Smith 
crossed over the divide — passed through 
St. Peter's gate. He was the very per- 
sonification of honesty and uprightness. 
Mr. Allison is still in the land of the 
living, and seems to be enjoying him- 
self. He lives off west, somewhere, but 
came back to Franklin a couple of years 
ago, and make one of the best speeches of 
the occasion of Old Home week. Thou- 
sands of his hearers will bear me out in 
saying this. I had the pleasure of meet- 
ing him at the house of a relative of 
his, at Salina, Fa., when he was making 
that eastern visit. I was surprised to 
find him the same "Doc" Allison of old. 
Some men never get old, and "Doc" i3 
one of them. The Derrick published his 
"Old Home week speech" at the time, as 
doubtless its readers remember the 
speech. It was full of good things from 
first to last. 

Before leaving the lumber question I 
will mention a little transaction that 
does not savor of square dealing. 

I landed a "river fleet" of square pine 
building timber in Oil Creek eddy, or 
rather in the mouth of Oil Creek. It 
was for sale. A man came up from 
Franklin, who owned a lumber yard in 
the "Nursery of Great Men," and look- 
ing all over the raft, made an offer for 
it, which I accepted. I agreed to run 
the timber to Franklin, the next day, 
which I did, and landed it at the junc- 
tion of the river and French creek as 
directed by the man — I will not call 
him a gentleman — paid off the men who 
helped me run the raft, walked over 
French creek to this man's lumber yard 
and notified him of the arrival of his 
timber. "All right, I will go right over 
with you" was his answer. When we 
arrived on the raft he made this most 
unexpected speech "This timber is too 
old. It must have been cut last winter. 
I will not accept it." I told him the 
timber was cut in the winter, but it was 
not quite a day older than when he 
bought it. I told the man I was below 
the market now, as I could have sold It 
I at Oil City, where they were using such 
timber in large quantities. The man still 
refused to take it. I thought I was com- 
pletely "hoodooed." I started for town 
using language for the benefit of my 
timber customer that I would not like 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



29 



to see In print. He started with me to | ery. I sold my raft to the city of Prank- 
return to town, but I would not be seen lin the same day for crosswalks for $50 
in his company going: into Franklin. I more than the rascally lumber yard man 
walked faster than he and witn a "Bene- agreed to give me. Now, dear reader, 
diction" left him far In the rear, but what do you think of that for a display 
fortune favored me after all this treach- of cheek?" 



CHAPTER XVI. 

HIGH STANDARD OFFICIALS WHO ARE NATIVES OF 
BROKEN STRAW VALLEY. 



Perhaps it will be news to many read- 
ers to mention the fact that the Broken- 
straw valley is the only valley along the 
Allegheny river from Kittanning to CouJ- 
ersport that has not produced oil in pay- 
ing quantities. It has produced oil oper- 
ators. John L. McKinney, J. C. McKin- 
ney and "Cal." Payne are Brokenstraw 
productions. All three were reared about 
two miles from Youngsville. "Curt" Mc- 
Kinney and "Cal." were considered good 
average little boys, but John L. McKin- 
ney was somewhat different from tlie 
common run of boys. He always was a 
little on the dude order. Other boys who 
were not inclined to put on airs like 
John poked fun at him. Little they 
dreamed of him outstripping them all. 
No doubt but that he coulu now buy 
and sell the whole batch of those boys 
who at that time tried to hold their 
heads higher. In fact, he could buy the 
Brokenstraw valley and have a good 
wad of pocket change left. Tliis is a 
changeable world . From boyljood to old 
age makes changes that are hardly be- 
lievable. John was always on hand at 
the balls that were very numerous in 
his boyhood days and on account of fine 
dressing and pleasant manners he was a 
great favorite among the fair sex. The 
writer of this has helped to make music 
(such as it was) for John to trip the 
light fantastic toe many and many a 
night. No one thought at that time that 
he had a business streak running through 
him that in after years would make 
him a power in the financial world. 
And "Curt" McKinney, although a more 
sedate boy than some of his young com- 
panions, has "surprised the natives." 
Both of these brothers belong to an oil 
family. This family of James McKin- 
ney, one of the pioneers of the Broken- 
straw and Warren county, I might say, 
are a family of oil workers and have 
done more than their share to make the 
oil business what it is to-day. The fam- 
ily consisted of six boys and one girl, 
and the girl married an oil man of 
Meadville. Colonel Drake did not know 



the opportunity he was giving to de- 
velop some energetic intelligent fam- 
ilies when he opened up this world-wide 
business near the city of Titusville. If 
Mr. Drake had lived to the present time 
he could not help feeling proud to think 
of the growth of the business that his 
busy brain laid the foundation for. If 
any one had told of what the oil busi- 
ness would come to, the morning after 
the Drake well was struck, they would 
have been pronounced fit subjects for 
an insane asylum. I must not leave out 
the boy "Cal." Payne. He always had 
an old head on his shoulders and was 
always doing something that boys in 
general could not do. He first surprised 
the denizens of the Brokenstraw valley 
by getting an appointment as passenger 
conductor of the Philadelphia & Erie 
railroad. That was out of the ordinary 
for a farmer boy to take cnarge of a 
pas.senger <or any other) train on a 
great railroad. Well, reader, "Cal." was 
not content to punch tickets and be 
looked up to as a great man by his out- 
stripped companions and resigned and 
started into the oil business. Nearly 
every one who was acquainted with the 
young conductor thought him very fool- 
ish to leave his position on the railroad 
for the then uncertain oil business, but 
"Cal." knew what he was about and he 
came up, up and up until his name as 
one of the high officers in the Standard 
Oil Company is a household word every- 
where an oil derrick is to be seen in this 
broad land of ours. 

I began this article by telling the 
readers about the barren oil territory of 
the Brokenstraw valley. The valley Is 
not entirely barren of oil and gas. About 
30 years ago Mr. Nevans, of Titusville, 
leased a lot of land in Youngsville and 
put down a well on the John Siggins 
farm, between the P. & E. and the D., 
A. V. & P. railroad stations. When about 
900 feet down he struck some gas and 
got a one-barrel well. As this was not 
much of a well in the days of 1.000 and 
2,000-barrelers, he moved his tools about 



30 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



15 rods from the location and drilled 
another well. This was a mate to the 
first and Mr. Nevans left for richer fields, 
continuing to operate until called to the 
life beyond. Before leaving Youngsville 
he told your humble servant that there 
was oil in the Brokenstraw valley. His 
theory was this: The rock, about 40 feet 
of it, was too hard for very much oil to 
come through, but that more open rock 
was not far distant, else there would be 
no oil or gas seeping through. He said 
that if he knew which way to go for 
this loose sand he would put down an- 
other well, but it was impossible for 
him or anybody else to tell which di- 
rection to take. Several wells have been 
drilled since Mr. Nevans left. All got 
both oil and gas, but not enough to con- 
vince the owners that it would pay to 
pump them. Through all these years 
some of these wells have been producing 
lightly, the oil being taken out with a 
sand pump. No well has been tested yet 
in a scientific manner. Those interested 
in oil matters are in hopes the new 
methods of operating oil wells will soon 
be tried here. A Pittsburg company has 
secured several leases lately and will 
commence operaitons very soon. It is to 
be hoped that the mile-wide valley of the 
Brokenstraw will not be left out in the 
cold many moons longer. I think that 
the good Lord would not place oil in 
paying quantities in the valleys of Ma- 
honing, Redbank, Bear Creek, Clarion, 
Scrubgrass, French Creek, Two Mile 
Run, Oil Creek, Horse Creek, Pithole, 
Hemlock, Tionesta, West Hickory, East 
Hickory, Big Sandy, East Sandy, Tidi- 
oute, Dennis Run, Conowango, Glade 
Run, Brown Run, Kinzua, Sugar Run, 
Corydon, Salamanca, Olean, Portville, El- 
dred. Port Allegany, Coudersport, and all 
the smaller stream'^, tributary to the 
Allegheny river, from Kittanning to the 
headwaters, and leave the widest and 
most beautiful, the Brokenstraw valley, 
minus this rich blessing of oil and gas. 
I see I have omitted in the enumera- 
tion of valleys the most prolific of any — 
Tunungwant. Excuse me, ye dwellers 



among the never-failing oil and gas wells 
of McKean county. And even if the 
days of one-barrel wells ever come, 
Youngsville and vicinity will be oil-pro- 
ducing territory, even If Mr. Evans 
should be mistaken in his loose 
sand prediction. A few years ago 
a well was drilled inside the bor- 
ough line to a depth of 800 feet, 
when oil and gas were struck. The gas 
blazed 40 or 50 feet high, with a roar 
that could be heard at a distance of a 
mile. Several barrels of oil were thrown 
out. The driller, Mr. Meely, had great 
hopes of a good paying well. The well 
was shot and the flow of gas was by 
some means shut off. Mr. Meely com- 
menced to clean the well. Each night 
40 feet of quicksand would run into the 
hole, which required a whole day with 
the sand-pumps to remove. This kept 
up for a week, when the superintendent 
abandoned the well with 40 feet of 
quicksand in the hole. Mr. Meely was 
so much chagrined by this order of the 
superintendent that he (Meely) said he 
once had a similar quicksand job on his 
hands and it required three weeks to 
exhaust the quicksand. When exhausted 
they had a 25-barrel well. A 
then resident of Youngsville, a very- 
successful Cherry Run operator, and af- 
terwards a Tiona and Clarendon opera- 
tor, pronounced this well good for heat- 
ing and lighting half the borough of 
Youngsville. But for some reason the 
superintendent abandoned this best pros- 
pect in Youngsville and the north and 
west side of the borough is an uncer- 
tainty up to the present time. A line of 
wells had been drilled — four in number 
— along the Brokenstraw creek, each 
prospects nearly as good as the last- 
mentioned, but none has had a scientific 
test, and it is an open question, which 
could soon be solved, whether this val- 
ley of the Brokenstraw will remain 
small territory, or take its place among 
the inany productive valleys along the 
Allegheny river. 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



31 



CHAPTER XVII. 

BIG THINGS WHICH STARTED IN WESTERN 
PENNSYLVANIA. 



I wonJer Low many of our readers evor 
thought of how very important a part of 
the country is this section of Western 
Pennsylvania. The writer of this was 
born in Centerville, Crawford county. Pa. 
Several great things had a beginning 
within a radius of 18 miles of this 
rather unpretentious country borough. 

First — The A. O. U. W., a beneficiary 
order, was organized a few miles south 
of Centerville. Jefferson lodge, No. 1, 
was the first fraternal insurance lodge 
organized in the United States. Now 
lodges are found in every nook and cor- 
ner of this great country. They are 
numbered by the thousands and hun- 
dred of thousands of members have 
died, leaving their beneficiaries — widows 
and children — provided for, who, if not 
for that first organization of the Ancient 
Order of United Workmen, would have 
been left destitute. One hundred and 
seventy millions of dollars have been 
paid by this order to stricken families 
where the Great Reaper has entered the 
homes. Reader, just try for a moment 
to estimate how many little children 
would have been ragged and hungry, who 
have been clothed and fed, to-day if it 
had not been for the A. O. U. W. And 
not only this but other fraternal orders, 
taking the cue from this pioneer order, 
have multiplied until now over 200 dif- 
ferent associations, of different names, 
flourish in America, with over 7,000,000 
members, paying about $80,000,000 year- 
ly. All from that little start of eight 
men, led by John J. Upchurch, of Mead- 
ville, 40 years ago. 

Second — The first fraternal dollar was 
paid 18 miles north of Centerville, at 
Corry, Erie county, Pa. Lodge No. 1 at 
Meadville was the first lodge organized, 
but it did not have the first death. Lodge 
No. 2 was located at Corry and had the 
first death. At that time the two lodges 
had 260 members. The assessment on 
the death of a member was $1 for each 
member. This assessment was always 
paid in advance. So, you can see, that 
there was $250 lying in the treasury in 
Meadville, awaiting a death to take 
place. At that time the plans of the 
order were in a very crude state. Mem- 
bers joined for the first three years' ex- 
istence of the society without a medical 
examination. People by the hundreds 
were saying that after the first death 
and the first assessment had been paid 
out, no more money would be paid in. 



So, after due consideration, so the story 
runs, the Corry lodge agreed to make a 
test. They initiated an old fellow who 
was nearly gone with consumption. He 
died in about three weeks, and the re- 
corder of the lodge, Mr. Fenton, of 
Jamestown, N. Y., who now runs a pail 
factory at that place, but who lived at 
Corry at that time, took the $250 to the 
home of the widow. The "smarties" lost 
their guess. Not a member of the 250 
failed to pay in the dollar assessment, 
and, beyond the most ardent dreams of 
the members, the income of the order, in 
place of $250, is now nearly a million 
dollars a month. 

Third — The first oil well was found 
at Titusville, Pa., 10 miles from Center- 
ville, on the edge of "Venango county, 
Pa. 1 need not say that from one little 
Drake well blessings far beyond descrip- 
tion have come to the world. And right 
here let me call your attention to the 
point that the hand of Providence must 
have guided the mind of Mr. Drake. He 
drilled his first well on the only spot 
where he. with his limited means, could 
have secured oil in paying quantities. 
Had he drilled his well on any other 
spot, we poor mortals would now be 
warmed by coal and wood, and we would 
be writing, at night, by the light of a 
pitch pine knot or an old glass lamp 
covered with soot or grease, or by the 
light of tallow candles, or some other 
kind of an arrangement. If Mr. Drake 
had only enough money, by being helped, 
to put a well down 70 feet, where would 
he have been if he had been obliged to 
go thrice that distance? The answer is: 
He would have quit before another 70 
feet was drilled. Compare the tools that 
Mr. Dra'ke was obliged to use with the 
improved tools of the present, and what 
is your conclusion? I claim to know 
something of what I am talking about. 
Just after the Drake well was struck 
the quiet but energetic John B. Dunkin, 
of East Titusville, a cousin of mine, 
took it into his head to kick down a well 
on Pine creek. I helped him six weeks 
with his laudable undertaking at the 
princely wages of 75 cents per day. You 
had better believe that during that six 
weeks John and I did some kicking and 
twisting of sucker rods. I left John at 
the end of six weeks to work out his own 
salvation, and with a few weeks more 
of hard kicking he was rewarded with 



32 



OLD TIMES IN 01 LOOM. 



a five-barrel well. Oil was at a good 
price at that time, ad John made a little 
money as a reward for his perseverance. 
John was almost a brother of mine. 
When he was born his mother died. I 
was only 11 months old at the time and 
my mother, who was a sister to John's 
mother, took care of us both. Good 
woman that she was, she managed to 
bring us both to the six-foot notch. I 
always felt as though John was my 
half-brother. I think every man, woman 
and child in Titusville knew and re- 
spected him. He was a walking ency- 
clopoedia. He would take the time any 
day to impart information concerning 
the old settlers of Oil Creek. Several 
years ago he passed away. 

When we sum it all up, where can 
we find another part of the United States 
where such godsends have taken root 
within a radius of 35 miles? Meadville, 
Corry (Corry paid the first fraternal in- 
surance dollar in the United States) 
and Titusville are names to b^^ 
emblazoned on the pages of fame. Do 
you blame me for feeling a trifle proud 
of being born at Centerville, about the 
middle of this triangle of little cities? 
Right close to Titusville lived Henry R. 
Rouse, at Enterprise, four miles from 
the Drake well. The lively suburb of 
Oil City — Rouseville — took his name. But 
to go back a little. Young Rouse came 
to Enterprise, Pa., when but a school- 
boy. He soon pitched into the lumber 
business and turned the tall pine trees 
into money. He displayed great aptitude, 
and the people of Warren county sent 
him — the boy representative — to tlie as- 
sembly. He soon made himself felt in 
legislative affairs. About the time his 
term of law-making in Harrisburg ex- 



pired, the oil business electrified the 
world. Young Rouse took a lease of the 
Buchanan farm, on which Rouseville 
now stands, and commenced successful 
operations. When nothing but bright- 
ness and prosperity stared him in the 
face, one of his wells caught fire, and he, 
with many others — Willis Benedict, one 
of Titusville's prominent men was among 
the number — was fearfully burned. Mr. 
Rouse lived but two hours after the ac- 
cident, but in that short space of time 
he made a will that could not be im- 
proved if he had given it a month's 
study. He was a single man, with no 
relatives but his old father. After pro- 
viding for his parent, he bequeathed to 
Warren county the remainder of his 
lumber and oil property. Half the in- 
terest of his fortune he wanted used for 
the benefit of the poor and the other half 
to be used for building a court house, 
and for building iron bridges and other 
road improvements in Warren county. 
The voters of the county were amply re- 
warded for sending him to the legisla- 
ture when he was but a boy. Warren 
county has had no poor tax to pay and 
but few iron bridges to build since the 
flames burned the life out of that noble, 
enterprising young man — Henry R. 
Rouse. Pa-sengers passing through 
Youngsville on either the Lake Shore or 
Philadelphia & Erie roads can see from 
the train the county poor farm and the 
Rouse hospital, erected by the bequests 
of this man. A marble monument stands 
on the lawn in front of the hospital to 
commemorate his memory. Although of 
a re-pectable size, it is not half as large 
as it should be. when compared with the 
princely fortune left for generations yet 
unborn. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



COULD NOT GIVE HIS ROCKY HILLSIDE AWAY. 



In this chapter I will mention the "on 
to Buffalo" business. When the Dun- 
kirk, Allegheny Valley & Pittsburg 
road was being built, the Buffalo 
and Titusville people were very 
eager for the road. They expected 
that a competing line would be 
built from Titusville to Oil City, con- 
necting with the Lake Shore branch to 
Ashtabula, O. If this could have been 
carried out the Lake Shore, as it Is now 
called, would probably have been a bet- 
ter paying road to-day. This 
route would have given a traveler 
from the east to the west a 
trunk line ride through the oil region In- 



stead of going up the lake, where not a 
derrick is to be seen. But the managers 
of the old W. N. Y. & P. put up the bars 
by laying down a track on the east side 
of Oil Creek to hold the right of way 
against all comers. I write this to show 
the moves on the railroad checker board. 
I never saw in my limited travels a 
railroad built such a distance and lie 
unused until the ties rotted under the 
rails, except in this one case. Perhaps 
the embargo will be lifted some day and 
that link in the line of 17 miles will be 
put in. But even with this drawback 
the D., A. V. & P. road was needed be- 
tween Titusville and Dunkirk to take 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



33 



care of the Chautauqua Lake and Lily 
Dale travel, the local business all along 
a good farming country, including War- 
ren and Toungsville, and the oil and 
lumber trade of Grand Valley. The 
smoke has ceased to pour forth from 

I e stacks and at the lumber mills, as 
is always the case at all lumber camps 
in the course of time, when the timber 
is all sawed, and the production of oil 
and gas has fallen off to a certain ex- 
tent. But it will be many days before 
all the oil and gas is gone. Two of 
the men familiar to the lumber operators 
have handled their last carload of lum- 
ber and the last barrel of oil. I allude 
to L. B. Wood and Judge C. C. Merritt. 
The judge left for the Untried Land a 
few weeks ago and Mr. Wood a few 
years ago. And let me say the judge 
was the first to die of a most remark- 
able family of brothers. The judge had 

II brothers. There were 12, counting 
himself, in that family. All lived to be 
old men, and not one of the 12 ever 
used tobacco or whisky in any form. L. 
B. Wood was a man who is missed. In- 
deed he was "Grand Valley." When lie 
was gone the whole Valley seemed al- 
most deserted. He did a vast amount of 
business and was a leader indeed. Wood 
left a son (Williston), who has the 
father's traits about him to such an ex- 
tent that the immense business of his 
father will not suffer. L. B. also left a 
brother, Frank, and the large business 
built up by the lamented L. B. Wood 
will move along without much change. 
But the pleasant and business face of L. 
B. Wood has been missed in his ofRce, 
store and on the streets of Grand Valley. 

The first man of Youngsville who 
made money at the oil business was 
John Davis, a shoemaker for years be- 
fore oil was thought of. He was born 
and reared on a farm near Youngsville. 
He, bj' hard work, could only make "both 
ends meet." He had but little money, 
but a good supply of courage. At the 
very first of the developments at Tid- 
ioute he moved his family to that town 
and took a lease, set up a springpole 
and pegged away until he struck one of 
those shollow wells that was the fash- 
ion, those days, and sold it out for 
$6,000. John worked away until he got 
money enough ahead to live in Mead- 
ville. Then he took the opportunity and 
migrated to the county seat of Crawford 
county. Pa., and thereafter rather 
dropped out of the ranks of the numer- 
ous Davis family in Youngsville. His 
interesting family received an education 
in that college city that they never could 
have had if they had remained in 
Youngsville. The members of the Davis 
family remaining here have always been 
noted for their musical abilities, the M. 
E. choir at one time being entirely com- 
posed of Davises. It was named "the 



Davis choir." John's family was not an 
exception in that respect, one of his 
daughters being the organist in Miller 
and Sibley's Baptist church choir at 
Franklin for many years. It may natur- 
ally be supposed that a lady who 
can play a pipe organ and give 
perfect satisfaction in the far-famed 
cliurch and Sunday school patronized 
and financially sustained by those world- 
wide Christian workers. Miller and Sib- 
ley, is pretty well up in the music line. 
Well, the genial John came from his 
Meadville home, about two years ago, to 
visit his numerous relatives at Youngs- 
ville, at the "ripe old age" of 92 years. 
One of his relatives was his "Aunt Pru- 
dence," but two years his junior. He 
told her that he feared it would be their 
last visit. His fears were well founded, 
as within the next year both were 
"sleeping the sleep that knows no wak- 
ing." 

Reading a few days ago, concerning 
R. K. Hissam, the bank president, re- 
minded me of a conversation that I had 
with Rev. Mr. Hissam, who owned an 
oil farm straight across tlie river from 
Sistersville, in tlie state of Ohio. Tie 
gave me a sliort history of his oil career. 
He was a Methodist Episcopal minister 
and years ago was "a circuit rider" on 
both sides of the Ohio river. The coun- 
try stands on edge in that section, and, 
as Rev. Mr. Hissam weighs over 300 
pounds, riding up and down these moun- 
tains was very laborious for both him- 
self and his horse, the horse in partic- 
ular, and he concluded to make a change. 
He bought 200 acres of sideliill land, a 
mile from the river, on the Ohio side, 
and became a Buckeye farmer. A year 
or two convinced liim that he was not 
intended for a farmer^certainly not for 
a farmer with land that stood edgeways. 
He then tried to sell his farm. Now 
came "the tug of war." By hunting liigh 
and low he could find no man anxious 
enough for farming such a hillside will- 
ing to give half the amount he gave 
for it. In other words, he could not 
give it away. He was in for a farmer's 
life, and he settled down to his fate. 
Then oil was found at Sistersville, W. 
Va., and oil operators found that the oil 
belt did not run with tlie windings of 
the Ohio river, but that it ran straight 
across the river, through Mr. Robison's 
600-acre farm about a mile and then 
through Rev. Mr. Hissom's 200-acre 
farm. The reverend gentleman did not 
have to look after buyers for his farm 
after that. He leased it to an oil com- 
pany at a good royalty, and when I 
talked to him his income was about 
$500 a day, with oil at 60 cents per bar- 
rel, and no wells drilled except protec- 
tion wells half way around the 200 
acres. I don't know what his income 
was when the rest of the protection 



34 



OLD TIMES I N OILDOM. 



wells were drilled and all the center of 
the 200 acres, and oil at $1.75 per bar- 
rel. James McCray had nearly such an 
experience. Just before Petroleum Cen- 
ter, Pa., became a prolific oil town, "Jim" 
owned a farm there of about 200 acres. 
About 50 acres was a very rocky side- 
hill. He did not value it enough to pay 
taxes on it. He paid a surveyor for the 
work of surveying off this 50-acre piece, 
made out the papers and went to Frank- 
lin and put it on the "unseated list." 
The county tre.asurer learned that there 
was an error in the transaction, and he 
refused to sell it as "unseated" land, and 
dropped it from his list and it fell back 
into "Jim's" hands again. Soon after 
the "Maple Shade" well, with its 1,000 
barrels a day, was struck. When J. S. 
McCray related this circumstance to me 
he had leased this rocky sidehill, in one- 
acre leases, at $3,000 bonus and half the 
oil. Oil was at that time bringing $3 
a barrel. His income from this 50 acres 
of "unseated land," not sold for taxes, 
was $5 a minute — night and day, Sun- 
days included, all the year around. Here 
the old saying comes in play, "It is bet- 
ter to be born lucky than rich." 

In these articles I spoke of working 
for Smith & Allison in their lumber yard 
in Oil City, one summer. I have told of 
Mr. McCray's streak of luck. In a very 
small way, I had a little streak of luck 
in the early winter of that year. Now 
this little sketch will look insignificant 
compared to the one just related above, 
but it was luck, all the same. After I 
finished up my summer's work among 
the board shanties of Oil City I came 
home to Youngsville and bought a couple 
of "creek pieces" of boards and a boat, 
such as was used to run oil out of Oil 
creek, in bulk, at that time. When ready 
to start from Brokenstraw eddy I made 
common cause with J. C. and D. Mead, 
two brothers who had been in the lum- 
ber business as partners for many years, 
but at the time mentioned above wer>i 
operating for oil at McClintockville, a 
mile above Oil City. I hitched on to 
their raft and was accompanied by one 
of the brothers to OH City. We sold put [ 
our lumber and oil boat. Then one of the 
brothers went on to Pittsburg and sent 
me back after a few creek rafts that I i 
had formerly engaged and had come out 
of the Brokenstraw creek on a sudden 
rise of water. We were to be partneis 
in this last mentioned deal. When I ar- 
rived at the eddy I found the other 
brother in possession of the lumber I 
had had engaged. Of course he knew 
nothing of my claims to the promise of 
this lumber and ignored my claim to It. 
Of course the fault was with the former 
owner of the lumber in not telling this 
brother up here what he had done. I 
finally said, "Am I out of this deal?" 
The answer was, "You were never in. ' 



Well, as rough oil country lumber was 
nearly as scarce as hen's teeth that year, 
and I had promised Smith & Allison the 
lumber that I had engaged, and that had 
slipped out of my hands as slick as oil, 
I felt somewhat blue — not the "blue* 
that the raftsmen in general were af- 
flicted with, but the real sober kind. As 
I stood on the bank of the old Allegheny, 
with no pleasant thoughts passing 
through my mind, I cast my eyes in the 
direction of the upper end of the Broken- 
straw eddy. There I saw a vision that 
roused my drooping spirits. A half 
dozen little creek rafts were tied to the 
bank. I soon found the owner. I trav- 
eled five miles the next morning and 
soon became the proprietor of those 
rafts, which were loaded with nice pine 
shingles. One day's run put this lumber 
safely into OH City. It was the night 
before Christmas and the river was cov- 
ered with slush a foot deep from shore 
to shore Christmas morning. If I had 
been one day later I would not have got 
that much needed lumber into market 
that winter — perhaps never — as the ice 
in the spring might have swept it away. 
I settled with Smith & Allison in the 
evening after I landed the lumber and 
started for Youngsville at 4 a. m. Christ- 
mas morning, my route being up Oil 
creek, creeping along the shore of the 
creek in places between the high moun- 
tain and water's edge. When daylight 
came I had reached "Tar farm," and had 
enjoyed a warm and well cooked break- 
fast at the hotel. Was not that a rather 
ticklish job — traveling up along the 
fearfully rough bank — part of the time 
through woods and darkness all alone, 
and liable to a holdup any minute by 
footpads? A man had been murdered a 
few nights before on this path, within 
the limits of Oil City, for the few dollars 
in cash he carried in his pocket. The 
spot was near the tunnel of the Lake 
Shore railroad and several holdups had 
taken place in different parts of the new- 
oil country a short time beforfe my 
Christmas morning's walk. As there 
were no policemen to protect the lone 
traveler in those early days, I confess I 
felt slight misgivings concerning my 
personal safety, as I was carrying the 
price of my raft and shingles in paper 
money in my pockets — not, as it 
would be nowadays, in a check which no 
thief could use. After breakfast I made 
my way up, up, and to the Shaffer farm, 
where the terminal of the railroad was 
located at that time, and took a glad 
seat in a comfortable coach, and I found 
myself enjoying my Christmas dinner 
under my own rooftree. Now, reader, 
can you see any good luck about tills 
trip? Perhaps you can better under- 
stand the buoyancy of my feelings bet- 
ter if I tell you I doubled my money by 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



35 



that one day's run on the raging Alle- 
gheny. The reason is apparent. Winter 
was so near at hand that the man that I 
bought the lumber of feared to run the 
lumber when such slush as I have been 
writing about was liable to tie up navi- 



gation for the winter at any hour. Con- 
sequently, he gave me a low price for 
taking the risk of rafting so far out of 
season. Now, what do you think of my 
luck? 



CHAPTER XIX. 



A PUBLIC SPIRITED AND SUCCESSFUL EDITOR. 



These articles would not be complete 
without a reference to one of the most 
lively, energetic and public spirited men 
to be found in the oil regions. This man 
commenced in his younger days as a writ- 
er from the oil towns. A visit to a dozen 
towns a day, and a letter sent from 
each *own, to the lucky paper tliat had 
him for correspondent, was just a play 
spell for him. He soon devMoped into 
an oil scout — a very impoitant part of 
the oil business in the early days of oil- 
dom — and the new well that came in 
without a diagnosis from his eagle eyes, 
was far away, indeed, and had a good, 
dark hiding place in rome swamp, or 
far-off section. This man, to make a 
long story short, kept on rising until 
he owns and edits the only paper on 
earth that gives a complete account of 
the oil business. About the first litera- 
ture to meet the eye of the writer of 
"Old Times in Oildom" as he has stepped 
into hundreds and hundreds of oil der- 
ricks, is this man's newspaper. In tlie 
business it is regarded as indispensible, 
all the way from the millionaire owner 
of many wells to the poorest pumper. 

As showing the enterprise of this man 
it is only necessary to mention that he 
bought and placed in his large establish- 
ment one of tlie first lynotypes ever used 
out of the great cities of New York and 
Chicago. To show how he is regarded by 
his fellow workers in the newspaper 
field it is only necessary to mention that 
he was one of the first presidents of the 
International League of Press clubs. 
"With all this he is a model of modesty. 
If he was aware of my writing this he 
would soon draw his blue pencil through 
this scribble of mine. "Well, reader, you 
already know tlie name of the paper, and 
the editor. But fearing that this may 
fall into the hands of some backwoods 
reader, in this wide world of ours — some 
one who knows little or nothing of jour- 
nalism and the wide, wide world, I'll 
proceed to give the name. The name of 
the paper is the Oil City Derrick, and 
the name of the editor is P. C. Boyle. 
My first acquaintance with Mr.Boyle was 
at the hanging of young Tracy, at 



Smethport, Pa. Tracy liad made a 
lengthy statement, and left it with his 
lawyer — not to be read until after the 
lianging. Mr. Boyle was then a corre- 
spondent of the Titusville Herald. Many 
other correspondents were tliere, from 
the New York Herald, New York Tri- 
bune, New York World and other papers. 
Tlieir fingers were itcliing for tliis state- 
ment. Immediately after the execution 
Mr. Boyle hurried to Tracy's lawyer and 
borrowed the document, telling the law- 
yer that he wanted to copy it. The last 
train for the day was ready to leave. 
Mr. Boyle made all haste to the depot, 
and sent the story by express to the Ti- 
tusville Herald, which had column after 
column of this "confession" the next 
morning, and the big New York corre- 
spondents were obliged to go to the 
Herald for their "news," one day late. 

Venango county people have all heard 
of Judee Cross, of Clintonville. I am 
now going to tell about something that 
happened long before the Drake well was 
thought of. I tell this to show what a 
wonderful memory some people have. 
About 50 years ago I traveled all one 
summer with a concert company. In the 
wanderings of our musical aggregation 
we struck Franklin — that "Nursery of 
Great Men." Our show held forth two 
nights in the old Presbyterian church. 
And, by the way, I engaged the use of 
that church of "Plumb" McCalmont, the 
then brilliant young lawyer and after- 
wards the greatest temperance advocate 
in Western Pennsylvania. Mr. McCalmont 
was a genial gentleman. Even then he 
made the green young fiddler and show- 
man feel right at home as he tramped 
along with him to a back street to show 
him the capacity of the old red clap- 
boarded church. Judge Cross was one of 
the associate judges of Venango county 
at that time. Accompanied by his daugh- 
ter he was attending court that week. 
They stopped at the same hotel with our 
famous concert troupe of two violins, 
two singers and one melodeon. Both 
nights the judge and his daughter 
attended our musical entertainment. 
Twenty years after that I went down 



36 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



to Pittsburg as an oar puller on a lum- 
ber raft and came back by stage. The 
route led through Clintonville. When 
Hearing the little town I asked the stage 
driver if Judge Cross lived there. He 
said: "Yes, lie is now postmaster." I 
made this remark in the hearing of the 
stage full of passengers: "I saw the 
judge 20 years ago at Franklin and have 
not seen him since." The stage driver 
replied in this wise: "If he saw you 20 
years ago he will know you now." I told 
the driver that could not be as when I 
saw the .iudge I was dressed fit for a 
showman — a great contrast between my 
clothes then and now. "I am returning 
from a 'trip down the river' with old 
dirty clothes and have slept in a raft 
shanty bunk with nothing but straw 
for a bed for the last eight nights and I 
am 20 years oldea-, 20 years dirtier and 
20 years raggeder." The driver said: 
"That makes no difference. If Judge 
Cross ever sees any man, woman or 
child once he will know them if he ever 
sees them again. Come in and wait while 
he changes the mail and when he sees 
you he will know you." When the stage 
drew up to the door of the judge's store 
in which was the postofflce I walked in- 
to the store and took a seat on the far- 
thest end of the counter. The whole 
stage load of passengers had become so 
much interested that all followed me in- 
to the store and stood around as very 
much interested spectators awaiting the 
result. The judge sat behind the boxes 
busily sorting the mail. He inadvert- 
ently cast his eyes in my direction and 
immediately exclaimed: "Isn't your name 
Brown?" Then a big roar of laughter 
came from the stage load of passengers, 
and the stage driver claimed a victory. 

I will say a few words about the old 
Noble & Delamater well, near Pioneer, 
on Oil Creek. What I am going to relate 



many old people already know, some 
middle-aged people know about it, but 
not many young people have heard of it. 
When the well was drilled In it flowed 
at an average of nearly 1,500 barrels a 
day for the first year. The price of oil 
was $14 per barrel — no wonder the pro- 
prietors started two banks, one in Erie 
and another in Meadville. The well was 
drilled on the very edge of the lease. 
The adjoining lease holder thought he 
could plainly see a "scoop" and lost no 
time in putting up a derrick, nearly 
touching the Noble & Delamater rig. 
He soon had a neighboring well in close 
proximity to the big gusher. The theory 
is that the Noble & Delamater well 
struck a crevice in the rock. In other 
words, the crevice was composed of one 
crack in a solid rock, with the oil fiow- 
ing through it. Be that as it may, the 
cute business man that tried to tap the 
source of the Noble & Delamater for- 
tune did not even grease his drilling rope. 
This sho^s the uncertainty of the oil 
business. ' And about a mile from this 
great money-maker occurred an exempli- 
fication of the uncertainty of keeping 
money when once in your possession. 
Mr. Benninghoof, whose farm was sec- 
ond to none in the production of oil, 
bought a safe to store his immense piles 
of greenbacks in, thereby saving him 
many long trips to town to deposit the 
burden of cash, which poured in upon 
him almost daily. While quietly seated 
at his farmhouse table, surrounded by 
his wife and happy farmer sons and 
daughters, a gang of ruffian robbers en- 
tered and, at the point of many re- 
volvers, they were obliged to watch and 
see their honest cash carried off — by the 
$100,000 — by the lowest pieces of hu- 
manity that God ever permitted to walk 
the earth. 



CHAPTER XX. 

SOMETHING ABOUT GAS. 



In these articles I have said but 
little about gas. In fact I tell 
little in these articles that would 
permit them being called "Old 
Times in Gasdom," instead of "Old Times 
in Oildom." Just think a moment — 
those of our readers who were on earth 
when the first big flow of gas was 
struck at Tltusville on the Jonathan 
Watson farm. The first big flow of gas 
was not worth ten cents; not good for 
anything in fact but to scatter the nice 
flowing yellow oil to the four points of 



the compass. For years after that the 
gas from the many wells in the oil re- 
gion was more of a nuisance than a ben- 
efit. It caused considerable expense. 
The owners of the wells were obliged to 
buy iron pipe to carry the gas to a safe 
distance from the well, where it was 
burned, to prevent the mischief it might 
do. And mischief it did do In hundreds 
of cases. It killed the lamented Henry 
R. Rouse, and several others with him 
at the same time, besides difiguring for 
life a score or more. Many lives have 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



37 



been lost and much property destroyed 
before this vapor was finally bridled by 
the ingrenuity of man. The operators in 
Butler and other sections soon found a 
safe way to destroy this terror. They 
laid a pipe, as described, touched a 
match to the gas, thereby destroying its 
power to kill. I stood on a high emi- 
nence in Butler county one night, and 
county 63 great gas torches high up in 
the air. It was a grand sight. But oh! 
the millions of money that was vanish- 
ing, all unawares to all mankind. Even 
"Cal" Paine, who at that time lived in 
his big new house, at the city of Butler, 
was doing his full share in destroying 
one of the best servants of mankind 
ever known. I guess he knows some- 
thing about it now, as he sits on the 
throne and gives directions in regard to 
this vapor, as it lights milions of homes 
with a brighter light than oil, and softer 
light than electricity. And more than 
that — it cooks millions of meals, and 
good housewives have only to strike a 
match, and one match may even suffice 
for all winter. My own little thriving 
town of Youngsville would be in com- 
parative darkness if not for this mis- 
chievous gas. Insted of a dim, flicker- 
ing street lamp, as in nights of old, we 
now have street lamps on nearly every 
corner and one bright light greets 
another all over the borough. The For- 
est Gas Company leads this once un- 
controllable stuff, in iron pipes, from 
away over to the Allegheny nver, in the 
wilds of Forest county, to nearly every 
room in nearly every bourse in Youngs- 
ville. All stores and public places are a 
bright blaze of light. Did you ever think 
of the triple benefit of this excellent il- 
luminant. First it saves you from 
straining your eyes while reading at 
night; second, it saves much hard work 
in cleaning lamps, and third, it saves a 
vast amount of wood chopping and whit- 
tling shavings every time a little fire is 
started. People within range of the gas 
are apt to forget to be thankful every 
day that gas was struck in their time 
and that it was not postponed until 
another generation. And I must not for- 
get to say that another great benefit is 
derived from this source. The young 
timber, instead of being cut up for fire- 
wood, is allowed to grow up into high 
priced lumber all over the gas producing 
region. 

The great Ruler of the universe — God 
— will provide for future generations. 
This is only one of many benefits that 
will be vouchsafed to the millions of 
people who will come to fill our tracks 
after we have traveled that imreturnable 
journey. Great is gas, and it came from 
small beginnings. 

When oil was stored in large iron 
tanks to a greater extent than it is since 
the Standard Oil Company commenced 



the business of transporting it directly 
from the wells to the refineries, lightning 
played a conspicuous part in depleting 
the producer's bank account. Now and 
then, a tank is struck by lightning, even 
yet, but a good share runs to the refin- 
eries or to the seacoast safely under 
ground in iron pipes, free from danger 
from lightning. I have seen a great 
many tanks burning after being struck 
by lightning and the most dangerous one 
of the lot that I have ever seen was one 
at Monterey, Clarion county. Pa., about 
2 8 years ago. Near a half dozen large 
tanks, of about 28,000-barreIs capacity, 
stood on the left bank of the Alle- 
gheny river at Monterey. They stood 
on a side-hill, about 40 rods from the 
railroad tracks and the river. One 
morning during a heavy thunder storm 
lightning struck one of the tanks and 
there was a wicked blaze immediately. 
It burned all day and in the evening a 
carload of us traveled five miles in a 
chartered car on the Allegheny Valley 
railroad to see the tremendous big black 
blaze. At this time I was a reporter for 
the Erie Daily Dispatch, and I went 
with the crowd for the purpose of re- 
porting this oil fire. A couple of hun- 
dred people, both men and women, had 
gathered about this great blaze and 
about 5 o'clock in the evening, the over- 
flow that always comes when a full tank 
of oil burns about half down came and 
rivers of burning oil started down the 
side-hill. The volume before speading 
was about four feet high. For some un- 
accountable reason, I happened to be be- 
low, right in the way of this burning oil. 
All the others happened to be off at one 
side, where they easily got out of the 
range of the burning fluid. I was the 
onlv one who had a nip-and-tuck race 
with the flames. I ran slantingly across 
the side-hill toward a piece of woods. 
I came to a rail fence, which I climbed 
on the double quick and dodged into the 
woods. As I went under the trees the 
blaze from the burning oil struck the 
tops of the trees over my head with an 
ugly roar. As I ran the heat struck my 
back with great force and I was quite 
strong in the belief that there would 
soon be one less reporter for the Erie 
Dailv Dispatch. But as was my luck, 
when I struck the edge of the woods I 
found a rise in the ground that turned 
the oil straight down the side-hill, leav- 
ing a breathless correspondent sitting on 
a log, thanking God for deliverance frcm 
a sudden death. This was a fire to be 
remembered, as it cleared a couple of 
acres of woodland between the oil tanks 
and the railroad. The burning oil poured 
I down the hill, devouring green trees and 
I everything it came to. It swept the Al- 
! legheny Valley railroad tracks, stopping 
i trains "for a day or two; burned a plan- 
ning mill, a lumber yard, several dwell- 



38 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



ing houses and a barn — then poured a 
great burning stream into the river — a 
stream which spread from shore to 
shore and floated Pittsburgward. It was 
a strange sight indeed to see that broad 
expanse of fire towering high and mov- 
ing down the old Allegheny on top of 
the water. 

I began this letter by speaking of gas. 
I am reminded by this Monterey fire of 
the Wilcox <Pa. ) burning well. Here 
was another gas freak. I and three 
others drove four miles from the Wil- 
cox hotel to see the famous burning 
well. We were amply rewarded for the 
trip. When we arrived it was dark. 
Every seven minutes, without fail, the 
gas would throw the oil and water near- 
ly twice as high as the derrick. Each 
time, when the flow would come, a man 
with a long pole, having an oiled rag on 
the end of it, would reach out the full 



length of this pole and set fire to the oil 
and gas. The gas would thrown an 
eiglit-inch stream far up into the air. 
The water would form itself into a bar- 
rel shape, and the gas and oil would go 
straight up this round tunnel, all ablaze, 
entirely encircled by the water. Then 
the water would spread and fall in 
beautiful spray, forming all colors of the 
rainbow. Such a sight taking place ev- 
ery seven minutes cannot be described 
by my weak pen. This free show has 
long since gone into innocuous desue- 
tude. It is doubtful if ever a counter- 
part of this wonderful Wilcox well will 
ever be seen again. This is an age of 
wonders, and perhaps something will 
turn up in this picturesque line that will 
excel the wonders of the burning well 
at Wilcox. But, I say again, it is 
doubtful. 



CHAPTER XXI. 



YOUNGSVILLE'S PROSPECTS OF OIL AND GAS. 



It is rumored thatparties from Oil City 
are quietly leasing land around the Alle- 
gheny sulphur springs, about one mile 
south of Youngsville, with the inten- 
tion of giving this territory a thorough 
test. 1 liave already mentioned the small 
wells about Youngsville. I left off a de- 
scription of the work that lias been done 
along the Brokenstraw creek, between 
Youngsville and Irvineton. Twenty years 
ago five wells were drilled within a dis- 
tance of two miles. All produced more 
or less oil, but not quite enough in the 
minds of the different owners to justify 
the expense of pumping them. It takes 
quite a good well to pay the expense of 
pumping one well, but when a dozon 
small wells are pumped by one engine 
the case is different. No two wells have 
ever been hitched together in Youngs- 
ville and vicinity, although there are 
about a dozen of them. A "second crop" 
operator could probably make money by 
getting control of a half dozen or more 
of these and harnessing them together. 
The owners of a majority of these wells 
contented themselves by sand pumping 
the well until they got a wagon load. 
Then they would drive to a Warren re- 
finery and ."^ell it. But I am wandering 
from my subject — the five wells along 
the Brokenstraw creek. One of the five 
was owned by A. McKinney and others. 
It produced about two barrels a day by 
flowing. The owners put up a 250-barrel 
tank to receive the oil. The well flowed 
at intervals until there was about 150 



barrels of oil in the tank- — a wooden one. 
Then came the .great flood when so many 
lost their lives at Oil City and Titusville. 
The Brokenstraw creek went over its 
banks doing about $200,000 damage in 
the Brokenstraw valley. The tremendous 
rush of water swept everything off this 
lease — tank of oil. and all. That was the 
last work done on that lease to this day. 
But the well flows occasionally — up to 
the present date. The oil is not saved, 
however. Some day the well may be 
cleaned and tested. This same company 
drilled a well about 200 rods above the 
one just spoken of and it was nearly a 
mate for it. I, with my own eyes, saw 
the above mentioned well flow about 
three barrels of oil into a wooden tank 
in the space of 15 minutes after being 
"shut in" two days. Although this was 
the time of the great flood this last 
named well has continued to flow and 
many a wagon load has been drawn to 
the Warren refineries from il. Now we 
come along u:i the creek a few dozen 
rods and another well has about the 
same history only the oil that it flows 
has not been saved. Then we come along 
up about 60 rods and we find the most 
abuse! well in the lot. It tried to be 
something but the superintendent "shut 
up shop" when it did not prove to be 
a great gusher without cleaning out the 
quicksand that gathered with oil and 
gas in fair quantities in the hole. At the 
west cMul of this two miles of wells, 
with not a dry hole, is a vast expanse 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



39 



of territory which has never been tested. 

I recently read a communication in 
the Oil City Derrick from the Rev. P. S. 
G. Bissell, concerning his father's claim 
to the honor of drilling the first oil well. 
Then I read in the Derrick the editorial 
comment on the letter. I saw the Drake 
well the second day after oil was struck. 
I have seen Georgre H. Bissell many 
times at Titusville. I have stopped at 
the same hotel with him, conversed with 
him, and I always found him to be a 
very agreeable gentleman and a strong 
believer in the great future of th oil 
business, but I never heard his name 
mentioned as the discoverer of the first 
oil well. It was Drake, Drake, Drake, on 
all sides there at Titusville, but never 
once Bissell — so far as I ever heard. The 
name of Colonel E. L. Drake has been a 
fireside word the whole world over. How 
many of the young people, at the pres- 
ent time, have ever heard of George H. 
Bissell? The intelligent business men 
who furnished the money to pay for the 
fine memorial in Titusville cemetery are 
not likely to make a mistake and put 
the monument over the wrong man. If 
George Washington's monument had been 
named Thomas Jefferson's, it would have 
looked funny. To my mind, the editor- 
ial in the Derrick relating to Queen Isa- 
bella and Mr. Bissell did not go far 
enough. There was quite a difference 
between the two. Queen Isabella did 
not drop Christopher, but continued to 
furnish the "dingbats" until the discov- 
ery was made. She did not let the burden 
fall on a Fletcher or a Wilson, as did 
the men who are now trying to take the 
honors away from Drake. 

How things have changed since I was 
a boy! I saw this country when it was, 
you might say, "a howlin.a wilderness." 
Tall pine trees darkened the country in 
places, as far as the eye could reach. A 
large part of it belonged to the Huide- 
kopers. of Meadville, Pa. Each quar- 
ter sessions of court at Warren two of 
the brothers would drive in a covered 
carriage to Warren on Monday and write 
contracts and deeds all the week. All 
the people in this section of the country 
thought the Huiilekopers "some pun- 
kins." Everybody tipped their hats 
when they met the Huidekopers driving 
their fine team of matched horses hitch- 
ed to a shiny covered carriage. A man 
in a covered buggy, those days, looked 
bigger than a man in an automobile | 
does nowadays. And the price — there 
was but little difference between giving | 
the timberland away as a present and 
selling it at only .n.50 an acre. Think 
of good soil for farming, covered with 
the finest of pine timber, bringing the I 
magnificent price of $1.50 per acre! Ii 
myself borrowed $150 of that kind-heart- 
ed and wealthy gentleman, John McKin- 
ney, often calle'd the "Uncle to Standard 1 



Oil," and paid Huidekopers for one hun- 
dred (100) acres of good land, covered 
with the best of pine timber, and one 
year from the time of borrowing the 
money had paid back the money. And 
the Good Samaratan that he always was, 
would not take one cent of interest. Was 
that not getting land on easy terms? 

The Huidekopers had their own 
troubles, as "all the sons of men" have 
in this business world. Timber thieves 
were numerous. Nearly every man that 
made shaved shingles helped himself to 
all the pine timber that he manufac- 
tured into shingles the year around. The 
Huidekopers tried to guard against this 
wholesale robbery by engaging men who 
lived in the vicinity to watch their prop- 
erty. This plan did not even retard the 
shingle making business. The many 
shingle makers never lost a day's work 
after the appointment of the watchers. 
The watchers seemed to have enough of 
business of their own on hand, without 
meddling with the shingle making of 
their neigbors — at least not according 
to my best recollection, was a man ever 
arrested for stealing timber. The woods 
were full of shingle makers. There were 
no shingles sawed in those days.' Shin- 
gle mills were unknown. The shingles 
were all split out with a frow and maul, 
then shaved on a "shaving horse" and 
packed into half-thousand bunches, and 
they were ready for the Pittsburg mar- 
ket. Nearly the who'* output of shin- 
gles in this then vast lumber country 
was hauled to Brokenstraw eddy on 
bobsleds in the winter time, and then 
piled on board rafts in the spring and 
run to Pittsburg and sold to the farmers 
all around the Iron City, and far into 
the Buckeye state. Not all stopped in 
Pittsburg, as many of these rafts ran 
the whole length of the Ohio river. Cin- 
cinnati got quite a share of this shingle 
trade. But I am wandering from this 
stealing subject. This cutting Huide- 
kopers' pine timber became so respect- 
able and safe that a man was thought 
just as much of when working up stolen 
timber as if it was his own. It was a 
common occurrence for a couple of men 
to go into the woods, build a shanty on 
Huidekoper land, and live in the shanty 
all summer and pick out the .best pine 
trees and make them into shingles, with- 
out even a thought of wrong doing or of 
being arrested for theft. In fact, these 
men often stole the timber from each 
other, after the first man had cut the 
timber lengths, ready for the frow. In 
one case amusement comes In. A cer- 
tain man living about a mile from 
Youngsville hired another man to help 
him saw and split into bolts a goodly 
pile of this timber, for his own use 
when he would get the time to work it 
up. A short time after a neighbor came 
to him and asked the loan of this ready- 



40 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



cut timber for a short time, or until he 
could get time to steal and cut enough 
to pay it back. The man that owned 
the timber refused to lend it to his 
neighbor, as he was ready to commence 
the job of manufacturing the stuff into 
shingles. Then it was that the would- 
be borrower, without a blush, made this 
remark: "I have already made that tim- 
ber into shingles and sold them, but I 
will cut more on the same lot and pay 
you back again, soon." He never made 
his promise good, and as it would be a 
delicate and dangerous business for one 
thief to arrest another, the transaction 
<Jropped right there. All the satisfac- 
tion ever gotten out of it was that the 
thief of the first part seemed to enjoy 
himself in telling his neighbors what a 
mean man the thief of the second part 
was. The writer of this got this nearly 
unbelievable story from the man who 
stole and sawed the timber. Both men 
have long since gone to put in their 
claims to heavenly mansions not covered 
This stealing timber business is not 
with pine shingles. 

guess work with me. I once bought two 
tall and large pine trees from Judge 
William Siggins. This was a legitimate 
transaction. The stealing comes right 
in as soon as I can get this pencil to it. 
I hired a neighbor to help me cut the 
trees down, saw them into "double 
lengths," and pile them up, ready for 
hauling to our shingle shanty to be man- 
ufactured into shingles. When the time 
came I yoked up "Buck" and "Bright," 
the very faithful old ox team belonging 
to my father, and hitched them to the 



wooden shod sled and drove two miles 
into the forest where I expected to get 
a load of my timber, but I didn't. Not a 
bolt wa.s to be seen. Then I began to 
look for tracks. I found sled tracks in 
abundance, but a lack of timber. I fol- 
lowed the sled tracks about a mile and 
found my timber snugly piled up by the 
side of another man's shanty. "The man 
was contentedly smoking a pipe and 
shaving shingles. He looked up — with- 
out any appearance of embarrassment — 
with a smile and a hearty "good morn- 
ing." I soon broached the subject nearest 
my heart and inquired the cause of my 
timber being piled at the wrong shanty. 
He answered in these words: "I got in a 
hurry for some shingles and took yours. 
I will cut it on the Huidekopers land 
and pay it back to you right away." I 
told him that I must have those shingles 
and as he had made 4,000 already and a 
large hill would have to be climbed be- 
fore reaching my shanty, I would give 
him the "going price" for making up 
the balance of the timber, about 16^000 
shingles, and delivering them at the 
Brokenstraw creek raft landing. He 
readily agreed to my proposition. But 
when I came around for a settlement, 
he had worked up all the timber and 
sold all the shingles, and pocketed all 
the money. In place of putting the sher- 
iff on him immediately, I took his 
promise to replace them in a fixed time. 
He never paid me a dollar, and I was 
green enough to let it stand until he, 
too, crossed over where no sheriff an- 
noys. 



CHAPTER XXII. 



BAD OIL SPECULATION. 



My experiences were not exten- 
sive as an oil operator. My first, 
last and only venture in drilling a 
well was on Cherry Run, in Rouseville. 
■When the .oil business was yet in a very 
crude state, J. C. and D. Mead and I, 
formed a co-partnership, and leased one 
acre of the old Smith farm, at Cherry 
Run, so close to Rouseville that it was 
really a part of the village. Having a 
majority vote of "the company," I was 
elected as superintendent. This was 
making a superintendent out of raw ma- 
terial. But no more raw than a ma- 
jority of the bosses in that early day 
of the oil business. Superintendents 
that had learned the business were not 
to be found, as the business had not 
been learned by any living man. It was 



"cut and try" with the best of operators 
at that time. I am very sure it was 
"cut and try" with my company. I am 
quite certain as I was the "cutter and 
tryer." And there is no use in postpon- 
ing the acknowledgment that I was not 
a howling success at the oil business. 
My first work required more muscle 
tlran brains. The work consisted of 
chopping down a big white oak tree, on 
the sidehill above Rou.seville, and hew- 
ing out a Sampson post. I did about 
half the work on all the timber fram- 
ing for our derrick and engine house. 
But now comes in the brain work. After 
consultation with my partners who 
knew as little about the business as 1 
did, I bought an old boiler and a new 
engine. The boiler was somewhat anti- 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



41 



quated, and in shape and size it would 
compare favorably with a 12-foot aver- 
age saw log. One little "lackage" about 
this boiler was the fact that it did not 
have a single flue in it, and it showed 
weakness from the very start. After 
much tribulation and vexation, and con- 
sultation with my partners in this ven- 
ture, I concluded to sell the old cylin- 
der out and replace it with an up-to- 
date boiler. I forget the price of this 
new fangled boiler, full of flues, but it 
took quite a little pile of notes on the 
State Bank of Ohio to pay for it, and 
commence operations. The cost of coal 
was an item that bore down hard on oil 
operators. We used Cranberry coal, at 
11.25 per bushel, delivered at the 
well. This seems funny now when 
all around us millions of feet of gas 
are being piped away from the wells. 
It compares favorably with work that 
I helped my father do when 1 was a boy. 
When clearing land for farming we 
would girdle nice, green, pine trees, 
killing them, so that they would not 
shade the crops, or cut beautiful clear- 
stuff red oak into logs, hitch oxen to 
them, haul them and roll them up into 
"log heaps, "with much hard lifting, and 
burn them. And this burning was no 
"fool of a .job," as the timber was ver^ 
green and soggy. It needed punching up 
while burning, at very short intervals. 
It required much attention for two or 
three days and nights before the last 
embers were consumed. This same red 
oak timber — if standing on the ground 
today, would bring $30 per thousand 
feet, without the owner touching it. We 
have two large furniture factories in 
Youngsville which consume 20,000 or 
30,000 feet of .lust such lumber daily. A 
part of it is now brought by rail, from 
"West Virginia. 

But let me get back to my oil business 
again. When this Cherry Run well was 
finished, it had cost about $3,000. It was 
a fair producer, about 10 barrels a day. 
Oil at that time was bringing $3 per bar- 
rel. But in the course of a year the 
output commenced falling off, and as the 
Roberts torpedoes were beginning to 
make a stir in the oil region, my part- 
ners asked me to go to Rouseville and 
have a shot put in our well. I told them 
that I would go down and attend to that 
shooting in 10 days. The Warren Coun- 
ty Agricultural Fair, of which I was 
chairman, was on hand, and I did not 
propose to put "business before pleas- 
ure," but stayed by the agriculturists 
until the end of that year's exhibition. 
One of the Mead brothers became im- 
patient with this delay in the meantime 
and went down to Rouseville and sold 
out our lease at a ridiculously low fig- 
ure to Mr. Nelson, a Philadelphia op- 
erator. This purchaser Immediately did 
what I should have done — had a shot 
of glycerine put In It. This shot 



brought the well up to 40 barrels a day, 
and convinced Mr. Mead that he acted a 
little hastily in the premises. If he had 
waited until the close of the county fair 
that glycerine shot would have put 
quite a sum of money in our pockets, in- 
stead of passing into Mr. Nelson's. We 
were having another well drilled on the 
other end of this acre which came in as 
good a producer. But my being so slow 
and Mead so fast deprived our company 
of doing much in the way of oil opera- 
tions. 

The old times in the oil country were 
frequently enlivened by fire getting 
started in the tinder-box houses form- 
ing all new oil towns. I was running a 
lumber yard at Karns City at the time 
that that quite noted town went up in 
smoke. I owned an opera house, a build- 
ing for a lumber office and Western 
Union telegraph office and lumber yard 
and hotel, all located in the lower end 
of the town. Fire companies came from 
Millerstown, Petrolia and Parker City 
just in time to stop the fire before It 
reached any of my property. In fact, 
nearly every building In town was 
burned except mine. I scored good luck 
for once. The fire started in a little 
store. The proprietor was away from 
home. The story flew fast that the man, 
a Hebrew, by the way, had been burned 
out three times and had been insured 
every time. When the man came home 
the next day an angry crowd met him 
on the street and accused him of being 
the cause of their homes being In ashes. 
The man turned white with fear in a mo- 
ment and protested his innocence. But 
his hearers were crazy mad and threat- 
ened him with lynching. A rope was 
I procured and preparations made to hang 
him to the nearest tree. Just then the 
constable arrested him and started with 
his prisoner for the lockup. On the way 
to the lockup an. amateur cowboy sent 
a rope whirling through the air three 
times, but each time it failed to coil 
around the man's neck. I never saw a 
lynching bee, but I might have seen one 
if that rope had caught on around the 
man's neck, as lots of men were ready 
to grab the end of the rope and run for 
the nearest tree. That night a trial was 
had before 'Squire Stewart and tne store 
proprietor was sent to the Butler Jail 
for safe keeping. He remained in jail a 
few days and then caused the arrest of 
his captors for false imprisonment. He 
proved that he was in Clarion all day on 
the day of the fire. He also proved that 
his wife's gold watch and chain and all 
of his best clothes were burned, and 
that one child, through fright, ran and 
concealed itself under a bed and was ac- 
cidentally discovered just in time to 
save it from a horrible death. The 
would-be lynchers had to pay quite dear- 
ly for their cowboy play. 



42 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



Although this fire swept the most of 
Karns City from the face of Butler 
county, no lives were lost. But after 
all this, when a iiotel had been built 
near the depot of the Parker & Karns 
City railroad, a terrible loss of life took 
place when the hotel burned — seven per- 
ishing. The hotel people, and two tran- 
sient lodgers were burned. But this 
was not as bad as the hotel fire at 
Chicora a short time before that, when 
eig-lit people were cremated in one hotel, 
and many more injured. 1 was an eye- 
witness to this holocaust. 

If all the sudden and tragic deaths 
that have taken place in the oil region 
since the Drake well was drilled were 
mentioned, it would fill a large sized 
book. Of the hundreds and hundreds of 
lives lost by glycerine I will just men- 
tion one that took place over on Bear 
Creek, not far from the places that I 
have been writing about. A man. I for- 
get his name, was dViving a one-horse 
load of glycerine over a stony road up 
one bran<^h of Bear Creek when the stuff 
let go with a jar that broke plate glass 
windows in Parker City, two miles away 
over a hill. I accepted an invitation from 



I a Mr. Stephenson to ride with him in his 
btiggy to the place indicated by the 
sound. When we reached the spot we 
found a great hole in the ground, about 
eigiit feet deep and eight feet in diameter. 
I About one half of a horse lay in the 
road unscathed, cut as clean as it could 
be done with a knife. It was the for- 
ward part of the animal that remained 
I in the road cut through the middle about 
I half way between the fore legs and the 
: hind legs. The hind-quarters were no- 
where to be seen. Only a little of the 
wagon could be found. Not a vestige 
I of the well-shooter could be discovered 
] except a portion of the skin of his face. 
That was found hanging on a bush about 
20 rods away. One wagon tire was driven 
i through a hemlock tree a foot in diameter. 
I might describe many other scenes 
that I have observed in the torpedo line. 
I have stood in three different towns, 
and have saw plate glass breaking, and 
falling onto the sidewalks, all caused 
by glycerine magazines exploding — But- 
ler, Willow Grove and Parker City. 
Death followed in the wake of all these 
explosions. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 



H. P. KINNEAR AND THE I. O. O. F. 



What changes come with time? As I, 
with my mind's eye, look back 
through the years, many things 
come to me that, to say the least, 
are surprising. A few remarks about 
Youngsville lodge. No. 500, I. O. 
O. F., will not be amiss. There were 
about 50 memVjers when I joined, a half 
century ago. Only one, besi.les myself. 
is a member to-day — David McKee. of 
Corry, Pa. I am the only one living 
within the vicinity of tlie lodge room. 
The Kinnears, Meads, Siggins. Johnsons, 
Marshs, Davises, McKinneys. Blodgets 
and otliers — all gone — either dropped out 
of the order, left the town or have passed 
to the Grand Lodge beyond. Reader, try 
and put yourself in my place. Think of 
stepping into a lodge with over 200 mem- 
bers all initiated since I was sliown the j 
secret workings of the order. Is it any 
wonder that a gentleman living in this 
town recently published the alleged fact 
that I had "long since passed the age 
of imbecility." The gentleman himself 
is no "spring chicken," and if God lets 
him live as long as he has let me live, 
he will not be one day younger than I 
am now. 



Several items are worth mentioning in 
"Old Times in Oildom" concerning this 
lodge. Mr. Kinnear, who was the orig- 
inator of this lodge neary 60 years 
ago, was the moving spirit in the busi- 
ness of the lodge and all ot)ier move- 
ment.s for the upbuilding of Youngsville. 
He was the representative of the lodge 
at the grand lodge of Pennsylvania ev- 
ery >ear of its existence, from its organ- 
ization until he passed beyond all earth- 
ly things. He voted on the destiny of 
No. 500 about 45 years. Mr. Kinnear 
was one of the go-ahead men of his day. 
He held the office of sheriff of Warren 
county for two terms; represented the 
county in the legislature two terms; was 
one of the founders of Point Chautau- 
qua; held the triple position of chairman 
of the committee on Grand hotel, super- 
intendent of the grounds of the asso- 
ciation and treasurer from the time of 
the starting of this association up 
to the time of the destruction of the 
great summer resort by fire. To enumer- 
ate all the achievements of this public- 
spirited man for the interest of Youngs- 
ville would take more space than can be 
spared. Suffice it to say that he "build- 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



43 



ed better than he knew," for upon the 
foundation that he laid the liveliest and 
best town of its size in western Penn- 
sylvania stands to-day. Mr. Klnnear 
was president of the Youngsville Sav- 
ings bank at the time of his death, 22 
years ago. His picture hangs on the 
wall of the lodge room and is a smiling 
reminder of the founder of the second 
lodge organized in Warren county. The 
three-story building, constructed of 
wood, is owned by the lodge, and next 
year it will be replaced by a fine brick 
buildin.er of modern design. Toungsville 
is proud of another man who has been a 
credit to the place — the Hon. William 
H. Short, who is 86 years of age and 
who steps along the streets without the 
aid of a cane. He has been a man of 
ability and business, a resident of 
Toungsville since a boy. He has filled 
the offices of everything that the bor- 
ough of Youngsville could bestow upon 
him, besides being president of Sugar- 
grove Savings bank for many years. He 
was one of the directors of the far-famed 
Chautauqua founded by the great Vin- 
cent, and, last but not least, Mr. Short 
has filled the office of United States con- 
sul to Cardiff, Wales. 

Youngsville lias many excellent busi- 
ness men of a younger generation, but I 
am writing of "old-timers" and the 
younger men must be left out for the 
present. 

A little incident that came near being 
a big incident is this: I, in partnership 
with William Davis, built a boat for 
the purpose of sending out oil by the 
barrel to Oil City. When finished we 
floated it out into the river, preparatory 
to going to the Hub of Oildom. When 
we were about to cut loose from Youngs- 
ville 40 ladies came on board for a ride 
of three miles to Irvineton. As it was a 
flat-bottomed boat, with no seating ca- 
pacity, the ladies were obliged to stand 
up during their ride. When nearing the 
Irvineton mill dam, j-our humble ser- 
vant, who had the distinction of being 
pilot of the craft, discovered the dis- 
agreeable fact that the water pouring 
over the dam was hardly deep enough 
to run the boat ovfer lengthwise; so, to 
make sure of not sticking on the high 
dam, I plied my oar with much vigor 
until the boat was lengthwise of the 
dam, thereby catching all the water in 
the creek, from shore to shore. The 
boat obeyed the rudder to perfection and 
the water was found to be deep enough 
to carry the boat over. But now comes 
the sequel. The pilot never had this ex- 
perience before, always finding the water 
deep enough to run the boat endways. I 
did not have forethought enough to let 
the ladies disembark, walk past the 
dam, then run the light boat over the 
dam and land, taking them on again and 
out into the river eddy, but instead 



rushed into danger. The boat alighted 
on the roaring and swirling water on 
one edge, coming up nearly full of water. 
The ladies all stood in water knee-deep, 
with a chance of the boat sinking any 
moment. The weight of the ladies caused 
the boat to sink so deep that an inch 
more would have let the water pour over 
the top. One inch more and 40 ladles 
and ten gentlemen would have been 
floundering in 16 feet of water. As it 
was, by order of the pilot, they all stood 
perfectly still until the water-logged 
boat, loaded with feminine humanity, 
slowly floated to more shallow water, 
where the boatload of fair ones waded 
ashore and were happily saved. The 
pilot would have had many lives to an- 
swer for if that boat had been a trifle 
more shallow, but "a miss is as good as 
a mile." 

I never was troubled by ladles asking 
me for a boat ride, after that trip. Bad 
management has been the cause of many 
ships, and many lives being lost. Bad 
management would have had the same 
effect in this case, only on a smaller 
scale. Anil I may as well tell it all 
when I am about it. I am now living, 
and have been for many years, in part- 
nership with the best one of that lot ot 
ladies. But she has never invited me 
to take her boat riding since that par- 
ticular occasion. 

Years ago, when I was at Smethport, 
Pa., I witnessed the only hanging of my 
lifetime. The readers of this will no 
doubt call to mind the taking off by the 
rope route of Young Tracy, for the 
murder of his sweetheart. The nighi 
before the hanging, I spent an hour 
with W. Ed Marsh, a young lawyer of 
Corry, Pa., but who had an office in 
Smethport. The sheriff chanced to call 
on the young Blackstone. We both 
tackled him for a ticket admitting us 
I to the jail, where the hanging was to 
take place. The sheriff was a very 
kindly man, and told us that his tickets 
were all gone — to 12 witnesses, 12 jury- 
I men, several deputies, about 30 news- 
paper reporters and a few friends, but 
i if we would come to the front steps of 
I the court house at 2 p. m., he would 
j come and open th'3 door and let us in. 
[ My only excuse for asking admission 
j was that I was a correspondent of the 
1 Titusville Herald, but as P. C. Boyle was 
the regular traveling oil region corres- 
pondent for the same paper, and had trav- 
eled in ahead of me, my chances seemed 
slim, for a while. Well, 2 v- m. next 
day found us eagerly awaiting the ap- 
pearance of the sheriff at the door 
Ticket holders by the dozen — P. C. Boyle 
among the number — came rushing along, 
and handed their pasteboard to the 
guardian at the door, and passed on to 
the death chamber. The limb of the 
law and myself stood on the stone steps 



44 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



of the court house, with a battery of 
3,000 pairs of eyes fixed upon us, acting 
like a couple of little boys trying In 
some manner to gain entrance to a 
show, "without money, and without 
price." 

The situation seemed to work on Mr. 
Marsh's nerves and he said, "Let us go. 
The sheriff has forgotten his promise 
to us and will not be likely to open this 
door for us. It is now 10 minutes past 
2." My answer was: "We have not for- 
gotten our promise. We are here as 
agreed upon. If we leave and he comes, 
we liave broken our promise. Let us do 
as we agreed. That agreement was to 
stay at this door until he comes to let 
us In." Every few minutes my lawyer 
friend would renew his request and I 
would get up new arguments why we 
should stay. After quite a delay the 
sheriff, true to his word, opened the door 
and politely escorted us to an advan- 
tageous standing place near the scaf- 
fold. We saw a double hanging. Tracy 
passed within a few feet of us, with a 
complacent face, and a priest on either 
side of him, trying to give him spiritual 
comfort. And, indeed, he did not seem 
to harbor any fears although death was 
staring him in the face. He stepped 



boldly onto the scaffold and when the 
black cap was drawn over his face and 
the trap was sprung his body shot down 
tlirough the opening, the rope became 
untied from his neck, and he fell nearly 
on his coffin, which sat beneath the scaf- 
fold. Then he was pushed back through 
the opening and another rope was ad- 
justed by ex-Sheriff King and the trap 
was sprung the second time, and in a 
few minutes he was pronounced by the 
physician as dead. It did not require a 
very long time to get the second rope 
around his neck, as the sheriff had fore- 
sight enough to have the second rope, 
in case the first one would not hold. A 
professional hangman, of Buffalo, tied 
the knots on both ropes; one neld and 
the other did not. Not very complimen- 
tary to his "profession." When the sec- 
ond rope was being adjusted Tracy made 
the remark, "Jesus, Joseph and Mary, 
save me." I was told by an old citizen 
of the town that only one man had been 
hanged in McKean county before this and 
this man showed exceeding coolness. 
When he was led onto the scaffold he 
put one foot on the edge and let his 
weight on by degrees, before he would 
trust his whole weight upon it. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



OIL REGION INHABITANTS. 



In writing of "Old Times in Oildom" I 
have left off until the 24th article what 
should have come in the first ar- 
ticle. I have, within the last 31 
years, organized 475 lodges (158 Good 
Templar lodges and 317 insurance 
lodges) in New York, Pennsyl- 
vania, Ohio, West Virginia and Can- 
ada. More than half of these lodges were 
organized in the oil region, and let me 
say that no better people are found any- 
where than in the oil towns. The towns 
are made up. in general, of the best- 
hearted people in the world. They are 
intelligent, industrious, kind and good, 
and a majority are skilled workmen. Go 
into an oil town and look at a crowd of 
greasy, dirty men. The crowd is prin- 
cipally composed of pumpers, drillers, 
pipe line men, telegraph operators, rig 
builders and representatives of other oc- 
cupations. 

Skill of the first order is required. The 
oil regions are principally made of edu- 
cated and go-ahead people. The old 
drones are not apt to dig out, an<l move 
into, and take up the activities of an oil 



I country life. They leave that life to the 
1 most energetic of their children. True, 
I there are people living in oil towns who 
1 are getting old that commenced an oil 
j countrj' life many years ago. 'iney were 
! young when they took up the business. 
j As to the men making provision for their 
families, but few die in the oil region 
: leaving their families destitute. 
I Many men die and leave more than 
enough money to bridge over necessities. 
j Many belong to several insurance lodges, 
j It is a common thing to find men carry- 
ing from $5,000 to $10,000 insurance. Not 
only the married, but the single men, are 
j insured. About five years ago I organ- 
I ized three lodges in succession in But- 
[ ler county — at West Sunbury, Middle- 
I town and Butler. While I was at work 
{ in each town a single man was brought 
j home dead and one mother got $3,000, 
j another got $5,000, and another got 
j $1,000. Each young man had named his 
I mother, with the understanding that if 
I he should ever get married the benefit 
certificate could be changed in favor of 
' his wife. One of those mothers that I 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



45 



speak of came within a day of losing 
$3,000. Her son was killed at an oil well 
just one day before he was to have been 
married. I write this to show that many 
young men carry protection. A young 
man who promises to shield and protect 
a young wife and then dies and leaves 
her over a washtub to keep starvation 
away, is looked upon as failing to do a 
part of his duty towards a loved one, 
when he could have protected her by put- 
ting a few cents into some lodge treas- 
ury once a month. But I am getting 
away from what I started out to tell. I 
wish to say to the readers that although 
some bad characters inhabit the oil 
towns, that their number is surprisingly 
small, considering the heterogeneous 
crowds which naturally drift into a new 
oil town from all points of the compass 
and from nearly all nationalities. It is 
a remarkable fact that there are towns 
and towns where there never was a drop 
of oil found that will outstrip the oil 
towns, two to one, in all kinds of rascal- 
ity and meanness. I think I have had 
ah opportunity to judge of this matter. 
During my 31 years' rambling over the 
states mentioned above, I never felt un- 
safe many times. 

The first time was between Lines- 
ville, Venango county, Pa., and Eden- 
burg, Clarion county, Pa., near 30 years 
ago. It was on a bright, shiny Sabbath 
morning, that I left Line-sville and took 
the nearest road for Edenburg. I trav- 
eled along about two miles, by pleasant 
farm houses, where all, to a lone trav- 
eler, looked happy and serene. Birds 
were singing their best Sunday tunes, 
and all nature seemed to be at rest. 
Then came a sudden change. The 
pretty farms gave way to a dense thick- 
et of oak and chestnut underbrush. The 
road led down quite a steep hill, at the 
foot of which stood an old, very old, 
two-story log house. Where there had 
been long ago glass in the window, old 
hats, and any old thing that could take 
the place of a light of window glass, 
did duty in the way of keeping the 
wind and rain out. Right opposite the 
old castle was a water trough, with a 
cool crystal stream of spring water 
rippling into a horse trough. So inviting 
did this look to me that, although noi 
very thirsty, 1 could not pass such a 
clear, cold stream of water untasted. So 
I leaned over to the rippling watei-fall 
and had just absorbed a couble of swal- 
lows of water, when bedlam seemed to 
have been let loose across the road in 
the old house. Although it was the holy 
Sabbath day, profanity poured forth In 
its rankest form, and a sound came to 
my ears resembling pots, kettles, chairs 
and household furniture in general being 
hurled through the house. I cut out 
the water drinking very suddenly, and 
took a glance across the road, and there 



at a front window sat a man with a long 
black moustache. He had an expression 
on his face that was anything but re- 
as=;uring to me. The man sat with his 
elbows on the window sill, his face rest- 
ing on his hands, and his eyes steadily 
fixed on the lone traveler. I had on my 
Sunday-go-to-meeting" clothes, a gold 
watch and chain, and a new handbag. It 
did not take very long for the following 
reasoning to slip through my mind: 
People that would get up a Sunday 
morning's battle of both words and fists, 
might take a notion to inspect my pock- 
ets and handbag. Lodge organizers are 
very seldom worth robbing. But these 
people did not know that, and I coula 
not tell but what they might take a 
notion into their heads to find out for 
themselves, so I put a very unconcerned 
expression on my face, picked up my 
satchel and started on my way without 
a parting look or word. The road led 
up hill from this habitation, in the little 
narrow valley in the woods, with dense 
brush on both sides of the road. I ex- 
pected every moment to see an investi- 
gating party step from this thick under- 
brush into the road ahead of me. I did 
some pretty tall Sunday walking up that 
mile long hill through the woods. And 
how glad I was to reach the top of that 
hill, and see a beautiful farm, and 
farm house, and hear beautiful strains, 
of music floating out from a quartette 
of two brothers and two sisters, accom- 
panied by an organ! What a transfor- 
mation—from the valley a mile below, 
to a mile above. I called at this Chris- 
tian home, and for an excuse asked for 
a drink of water. The reader will re- 
member that I did not finish my last 
drink. The young people played and 
sang their best hymns for the benefit 
of the lone organizer, and after a pleas- 
ant hour. I resumed my lonely Sunday 
walk, and reached that busy oil town of 
Edenburg in due time. I said nothing to 
my new found friends on the nice farm 
at the top of the hill about their neigh- 
bors a mile below, and I am in ignorance 
to this day as to who, or what kind of 
a family occupied that old two-story 
log house in the deep hollow, two miles 
on the road from Linesville to Edenburg. 

The second rather alarming place that 
I struck was between FroStburg and 
Byrom Station, in Forest county. Pa. 
The distance is a little over a mile, and, 
like the last woods described, lined by 
dense underbrush on both sides of the 
road. When I was nearly half way 
through this piece of woods I saw at 
quite a distance ahead a large man come 
from the brush into the middle of the 
road and take a good look at me, and 
then step back out of my sight into the 
brush. I put my watch and chain into 
j my inside coat pocket, so that no in- 
i ducement in that line would be held out, 



46 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



if the big fellow turned out to be a rob- 
ber. I put on as bold a front as could 
be expected under the circumstances and 
trudged along. When opposite to the 
place where I had seen him reconnoiter- 
ing, I turned my eye around and beheld 
this giant, with a cowboy moustache, 
standing in a path about two rods from 
the main road, looking me square in the 
eye. As I did not want to form an Inti- 
mate acquaintance with a stranger 
adopting those tactics, I did not even 
pass the time of day with him, and he 
proved to be as "short on courtesy" as I, 
so I walked along, not showing any 
alarm, and, of course, I did not look 
around to show that I was interested in 
him, and I never saw him again. He 
may be there yet, as far as I know. I 
was perfectly safe all the time, but I did 
not know it until I was safely out of 
that luxuriant underbrush. The same 
God that has guided me in those hun- 
dreds of strange places was with me 
then, but, with my dim vision, I could 
not see this until distance proved it to 
me. I have often wondered why this 
last man was there. I have thought that 
he was evading the officers of the law 
and was keeping an eye out, but the 
fact that he remained so near the road, 
instead of going a little further back, 
would disprove this theory. Then again, 
if he was there for the purpose of rob- 
bery, why did he not pitch into me. 

And now I come to the third fright. 
About 16 years ago I was walking down 
the Lake Shore railroad track, between 
Ashtabula and Ashtabula Harbor. As 
night came on I overtook four men 
walking leisurely. As soon as I came 
up to them and spoke, I made up my 
mind that they were common tramps. 



My pleasant "good evening" was an- 
swered in a very surly manner. My 
fears got the better of me and I quick- 
ened my gait. There was a deep cut in 
the road at that place, and the only way 
to get out of that company was to out- 
walk the big lubberly fellows and reach 
a street crossing, where steps could be 
found leading up to the wagon road. 
The faster I would walk the faster the 
tramps would walk. When I reached the 
wagon road there happened to be two or 
three teams crossing at that time, and I 
skipped up the bank and mixed in with 
the crowd and I was safe from the 
tramps. Two weeks after that time I 
read of a gang of tramps killing a man 
for his money at that identical spot. I 
really think that this quartette of tramps 
expected me to travel down the railroad 
and that they would "go for me." I 
"showed the white feather," but I would 
rather show "white feathers" while alive 
than have an undertaker show black 
feathers at my funeral. 

Anyhow I think I have proved my 
original assertion that, after having 
worked up and organied 475 lodges, over 
half of them in the oil regions, with 
only three little "scares" and no real at- 
tacks, the oil country is not a very 
dangerous place in which to live. I 
have a very warm spot in my heart for 
the oil country and its inhabitants. When 
I say this, I praise a great many peo- 
ple, and they are getting more and more 
numerous every day. Just think of it! 
From a little spot here in Western 
Pennsylvania, this business has spread 
to New York, Ohio, West Virginia, Ken- 
tucky, Illinois, Texas, Oklahoma, Indian 
Territory, California and Canada. Truly, 
oil is a wonderful thing! 



CHAPTER XXV. 



PICKPOCKETS. 



These articles would not be complete 
without a mention of my experiences in 
the pickpocket line. The first greenbacks 
that I ever saw, when they were first is- 
sued, were stolen by a light-fingered and 
low-lived rascal in Pittsburg, Pa. I ,in 
partnership with Nelson Mead and Hi- 
ram Belnap, floated a raft to Pittsburg 
and sold it and received $425 to bind the 
bargain. My partners trusted me tc 
carry that package of new and bright 
bills home, while they agreed to stay 
until the raft of boards was delivered on 
the south side, when the balance of tho 
money would be paid to them. I was 
obliged to sit in the union depot until 



1:30 a. m. before a train left for up the 
river. I bought a ticket and took my 
seat in the waiting room and, like the 
greenhorn that I was, fell asleep, and 
waked up when the starting of the train 
was announced. I took my seat in the 
coach and when I felt for my pocketbook 
it had disappeared, together with the 
$425 of the handsomest paper that I had 
seen up to that date. I was unsophisti- 
cated enough to think that possibly the 
book had fallen into honest hands and I 
quit the train and returned to my hotel 
and took one of my partners with me at 
the break of day to look about the depot. 
This was a sign of imbecility on my 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



47 



part, but I was not as old then as now. 
We looked around the depot a short time, 
but did not find any pocketbook lying 
around loose filled with brand-new 
greenbacks. I then went and called on 
"Bob" Ford, the well known Pittsburg 
detective. He told me that this kind of 
business was of almost nightly occur- 
rence at that depot and that three nights 
before I called upon him a man had 
$1,300 stolen. Mr. Ford told me that he 
offered to pay every dollar stolen from 
that depot in one year if the city would 
pay him $1,000, but the cify fathers re- 
fused and the traveling public was suf- 
fering in consequences daily. 

I felt a little bit green over this tran- 
saction and told the partner that went 
to the depot in the morning to not let 
the other partner know anything about 
it and I would stand the loss. I didn't 
want to tell anyone — not even my wife 
— until I struck oil. In about two years 
I struck a little oil and then told the 
story on myself. 

The second time that I was robbed 
was at Warren, Pa., at the time of the 
Cherry Grove excitement when "The 
Mystery," or "Six Hundred and Forly- 
Six," was struck. The price of oil depreci- 
ated at this time to such an extent that 
small operators suffered greatly. If the 
Standard Oil Company had never done 
anything but steady the price, and stop 
such fluctuations, tlie Standard would 
have proved a godsend to the country. 
Well, as I was saying, a great rush was 
caused by this strike. Warren was full 
of all kinds of people, with a sprinkling 
of pickpockets to boot. And as I stepped 
on a P. & E. train at Warren in a great 
jam and took my seat in a coach I 
missed my pocketbook. When I missed 
that I immediately felt for my watch 
and was really surprised to find it in my 
vest pocket untouched. However, pick- 
pockets at that time generally let time- 
pieces alone for they were much more 
easily identified than the money. I had 
one satsfaction in this. I had only about 
$10 to lose that time, although it did 
happen that I lost some valuable papers. 
The third call by this class of visitors 
was in my own town of Youngsville. I 
T\-as returning from attending Buffalo 
Bill's Wild West show. There was a 
gang of those miserable blots on the 
face of the earth following Buffalo Bill's 
Wild West show at that trip and two of 
them took the same train west on the 
P. & E. road that I did. In getting off 
the train I was considerably crowded by 
two young, good-looking men, who pre- 
tended to be in a great hurry to get to 
vacant seats. They were crowding from 
both sides of the aisle. I thought that 
I recognized them as pickpockets and as 
I stepped out of the coach door I felt 
for my pocketbook, but, as I expected, 
it was not there. I stepped off the train 



and told the conductor that he had pick- 
pockets on board his train. He asked me 
if I could point them out to him. I told 
him that I could not, as they were lost 
in the crowd, and consequently they es- 
caped arrest. But this time the joke was 
on the thieves, as they got only about 
$2 — hardly worth the risk. I suppose 
tlie rascals must have let off some cuss- 
words when they opened that book. But 
I was inconvenienced somewhat by the 
loss of papers which could do the thieves 
no good. 

Three days after this I attended the 
grand lodge I. O. O. F., of New York 
state, at Jamestown. In the afternoon a 
little party concluded to take a ride on 
the lake, and as I thought I might not 
have money enough to carry me through, 
I asked a friend if he had $5 that he 
would not need until he reached 
YoungsvUle. He answered, "I don't 
know, but will look." I said: "Don't 
look at your money in this crowd. 
There may be pickpockets here — go into 
the writing room." He complied with 
my request and soon came back with 
the remark, "Yes, I can let you have 
it." I stepped into the writing room ot 
the Sherman house, and wrote a check 
for five dollars, came right out into 
the public room, handed my friend the 
check and he handed me the money, in 
the presence of a hundred men. I put 
the money in my book, and — reader — 
give a guess as to the length of time 
that I had possession of that money. 
Being well aware that you will make the 
time too long, I'll tell you — just about 
three minutes. A street car came to 
the door of (he hotel, and our party 
rushed for seats. A party of New York 
pickpockets also rushed for seats, or 
pretended to, and my pocketbook. They 
got the book, but not the seats. They 
preferred to stay in Jamestown, and ptck 
up other easy marks, like myself. I was 
quite certain — before I got into the 
car — by the actions of this crowd of 
New York city excursionists — that they 
belonged to the fraternity that always 
had a liking for me, and I found my 
prognostications to be correct when 1 
felt for my pocketbook and found that 
it had very recently changed owners. 
When I made my predicament known a 
friend loaned me a sufficiency of cash to 
enable me to stick to my 
crowd of "Brother Odd Fellows" 
until my arrival in Youngsville. 
And let me say, that although 
sixteen years have come and gone, 
I have not lost a pocketbook since that 
time, for the good reason that I have 
not had a book in my pockets since. I 
don't know how many times those mean- 
est of things in the shape of men have 
had their hands in my pockets since the 
Jamestown donation, but I do know that 
they have gone without their regular 



"48 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



meals if they depended on me to pay 
their bills. It is a little more safe to 
keep your money in bank, and All blank 
checks when you wish to use it than to 
carry your money in your pockets. 

This reminds me of a funny little in- 
cident. Away up in the mountains of 
the "Mountain State," "West Virginia, I 
gave a check for 75 cents on the Toungs- 
ville Savings bank, 400 miles away, to a 
hotel man in payment of my hotel bill. 
I happened that way again six months 
afterwards. He was still the owner of 
the check. He said it was too small an 
amount to send to his bank. I remained 
under his hospitable roof on this second 



visit until my check was large enough 
for him to "bother with," but I am not 
taking any chances with pickpockets. I 
cannot account for the fact that I am 
"a shining mark" for this class of mis- 
creants that I have mentioned, when my 
neighbors all escape. I know I have 
reached the point of intense hatred of the 
people who make their living that way. 
They have nothing to lose and every- 
thing to gain. They don't risk one cent. 
It is all income and no outgo. Nothing 
would please me more than to see the 
whole crowd — no, I could not see them 
all at the same time, there are too many 
of them — hanging by their necks. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 



OLD TIME LUMBERMEN, 



In writing this chapter there comes to 
my mind old rafting times. Years ago, 
when I was a pilot of lumber rafts on the 
.Allegheny and Ohio rivers, when the 
spring flood came, us young fellowg, 
and many of the old fellows, w"ould be- 
gin to look around for work at rafting. 
Even before the water came, deep 
enough for rafts, we would begin to 
build our "creek pieces" on the ice at 
the mills. We had no steam mills then. 
Vi^ater power made all the lumber then. 
The logs were hauled to the streams, 
for the sawing into boards. And oh! 
what boards. The logs were rolled on 
to carriages, and set to the right thick- 
ness with crowbars — by guess. Some- 
tirhes a board would be a quarter 
or a half inch thicker at one end 
than at the other end. The saw was 
hung in a sash, made for one single saw, 
and played up and down with an un- 
certain speed, owing to the height of 
the water in the dam above the mill. 
And after a log had a slab taken off of 
both sides — sometimes a board or two 
would be sawed, thus flattening a log. 
These boards would be piled on the flat 
side of the log, to be edged. The saw- 
yer would sit on these boards in front of 
the saw .and as tlie saw would near him 
he would hitch away from it, but must 
keep his weight upon the boards, to 
keep them down, so that a single saw 
could do its double duty of sawing the 
board under and edging the board on 
top ,at one and the same lime. AVhen 1 
was a young, green millhand I came the 
nearest to passing into the life beyond 
I ever did, through this very method of 
edging boards. I was sitting in front of 
the saw, hitching away at intervals. The 
skirt of my coat dragging behind, I, like 



the fool boy that I was, took a notion 
that I would let the saw clip a little 
iiotch in my coat, so I let the saw creep 
up to it. But instead of clipping a lit- 
tle notch, the coat was jerked down into 
the log with such violence that the 
skirt was nearly torn off, with a dozen 
holes in it. As the saw came up out of 
the log for another stroke I jumped 
with the agility of a cat, or any other 
smart animal. If not for that quick 
motion I would have been mincemeat in 
a second. I never again tried such an 
experiement. But to the subject: 

When the snow melted and raised the 
creek to a rafting stage then the fun 
began. The Brokenstraw creek would be 
full of rafts passing through Youngs- 
ville from morning until night. One 
might stand on the bridge spanning tlie 
Brokenstraw creek all day long and not 
be out of sight of a floating raft, either 
up the creek, down the creek or pass- 
ing through town. At that time saw- 
mills were strung along the creek from 
Irvineton to the headwaters in Chau- 
tauqua county, N. Y. And as no rail- 
road was even contemplated all the lum- 
ber was floated. Even the tributaries, 
little Brokenstraw, Garland, Spring 
creek and Hare creek, put out their 
share of this lumber. But the show 
came when these hundreds of "creek 
pieces" were landed in the Brokenstraw 
eddy. They must be coupled up prep- 
aratory to starting for Pittsburg. At 
times the Brokenstraw eddy was not 
large enough and a share of the coupling 
up into river rafts of about a dozen creek 
rafts, put into one river raft, went to 
Dunn's eddy and to Thompson's eddy. It 
required a considerable fishing and fig- 
uring for each of perhaps 50 owners to 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



49 



get their different creek pieces out of 
the general mixup and coupled into river 
rafts. Well, I guess there was a hurry- 
ing time among the men that did this 
work when water was falling in the 
river. Men have been known to work 
all night with only the light of pitch 
piiie knots. No electric, gas or acetylene 
lights were even dreamed of those days. 
And when the "Allegheny fleets" were 
all coupled up a shanty was built of 
boards, a stove put in and some hard 
"bunks" for the "hands" to sleep in. A 
supply of salt pork, potatoes and bread 
was put aboard and the raft was ready 
to "pull out." The pilot would say "Left 
Forward" and the fleet would be pro- 
pelled from the shore where it has been 
tied by a long cable since the work of 
"coupling up" commenced by the most 
willing set of workers that ever left 
friends and foes behind for an outing 
down the river to Pittsburg, Wheeling. 
Cincinnati, Louisville and many times to 
the falls of the Ohio river and New 
Orleans. Those robust raftsmen were 
the most jovial, rollicking fellows to be 
met with anywhere. None but the stout- 
est men undertook that work. It re- 
quired being out of doors in all kinds of 
weather. The men had to be near their 
oars every moment as when the pilot 
gave orders to right or left each oar was 
expected to be dipped in tlie next few 
seconds. Rain, snow and sometimes a 
mixture of both had to be endured. 
Weakly consumptive fellows were very 
seldom seen on a raft. Only young men 
full of warm blood and deviltry were 
right at home on a raft in the old times. 
These latter named would pull into a 
river eddy in any kind of a storm, take 
their hurried meal and after all kinds 
of jokes and pranks would crawl into 
the bunks filled with straw, with their 
clothes on, and sometnifs frozen stiff, 
lie down, spoon fashion, go to sleep, and 
not wake up until the break of day 
when the pilot would jump out and yell 
"Tie Loose." In about a minute the raft 
would be gently floating towards the 
"Smoky City." If those early pioneers 
had been obliged to adjust their cuffs, 
collars, neckties and see that the seams 
in their pants had the desired appear- 
ance it would have taken more than one 
minute to get afloat each morning. And 
air would be filled with cusswords. The 
pilots, in general, were men who used 
steamboat language when they got in a 
hurry. And the wages for hard work and 
fare, we, "the hands," got the magnifi- 
cent sum of $10 a trip and pay our own 
way back. 

If a man walked back home he couid 
clear $1 a day, if he did not "tie up" for 
high water or walk too slow in coming 
back. The average walker would clear 
about $1 a day if he was a total abstain- 
er. If not, he would fall short, as those 



who indulge in strong drink will testify 
to, even at the present time. Since the 
world began strong drink has been a 
great absorber of money, and the sad- 
dest of all sad things is that all the 
money spent for strong drink vanished 
into the air. No good ever came from it 
— all bad, bad, and no good. Since Adam 
and Eve's time it has a poor record. If 
our legislators would wait before pass- 
ing laws to protect the sale of intoxi- 
cating liquors until they see any benefit 
derived from a drink of whiskey, taken 
as a beverage, they never would pass 
another law of that kind until doomsday. 
And now arises the question, Why can- 
not our lawmakers make good laws just 
as easy as bad laws? No doubt but 
what the people, 100 hundred years 
hence, will look back upon us and call 
us barbarians for making laws for the 
protection of the greatest evil on the 
face of God's green earth. I said the 
greatest evil; I'll make it stronger — I'll 
say it outweighs all other evils com- 
bined. It is time that the north quits 
looking down upon the south. We ought 
to begin to look up to them on the tem- 
perance question. Why, God bless them! 
they are nearly half prohibition now, 
and If Pennsylvania and New Jersey 
don't wake up soon the south will be all 
prohibition before they begin the good 
work. 

Now I'll come back to my subject 
again. When those footsore travelers 
got back to their homes along the upper 
waters of the Allegheny river a large 
majority would swear off going down the 
river on a raft again. But when the 
next "rafting fresh" came there would 
be more begging for trips down the river 
than could be used. And now, about the 
price of lumber. Good pine boards have 
been sold in Pittsburg for $4 per thous- 
and feet and nearly a fourth of it "clear 
stuff." Compare this price with the 
present price and you are almost stag- 
gered. The same quality of lumber 
to-day would bring eight times as much 
in the same market. 

Among the old-time lumbermen in 
Warren county, was "Joe" Hall, L. F. 
Watson, Boom Mead, Erastus Barnes, 
Orris Kail, Guy Irvine, John McKinney, 
James McKinney, Eben Mead, John 
Mead, J. C. and D. Mead, John Garner, 
Aniasa Ransom, James Durlin, John 
Durlin, Robert Andrews, Dr. Wm. A. Ir- 
vine, Samuel Granclin, H. P. Kinnear, a 
Mr. Funk. .Joseph Green, James Eddy, 
Charles Whitney, J. B. Phillips, Alonzo 
Patch, Joseph Mead, Hardin Hazeltine, 
William Siggins, Daniel Horn, William 
Demming, Alden Marsh, James Donald- 
son, Sterling Holcomb, John Brown, 
William White, William Freese, Philip 
Mead, L. B. Wood, Chapin Hall, and 
many more that I could name. In fact, 
there were more lumbermen than farm- 



50 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



ers. Farming was not the picnic those 
days tliat it is now. Wliere farms were 
cleared up the stumps were compara- 
tively green. The trees had been but 
recently cut, and the stumps were green 
with tough roots, extending out in all di- 
rections, a rod or two, making anything 
but pleasant work in ploughing and 
making land ready for the crops. The 
main crops were hay, oats, corn, wheat, 
potatoes, rye and buckwheat. What a 
difference between now and then. Now 
the most of the stumps are rotted, or 
pulled out with a machine I Many of 
the fences were made of pine stumps. 

These fences were not beautiful to 
look at. but they were very durable. The 
pine roots were filled with pitch, and 
never would rot. A few of these fences 
can be seen at the present time scat- 
tered over the country. If these fences 
had not gone out of fashion, they would 



be here yet, sound and in good order. 
But a new-fangled way of farming 
sprang up and no fences, or but a few, 
are needed. In the early days, cattle, 
sheep and horses ran all over the coun- 
try at random, where now the farmers 
only make fences around their pasture 
fields and keep all their stock shut in, 
so that few fences are found in the 
country, and where boards and rails 
were used tlien, now posts and wire are 
used. 

When I finished writing the names of 
the old time lumbermen the thought 
struck me that I would look over the 
list and see how many of those old time 
lumbermen were alive to-day. And, dear 
reader, how many do you think are alive 
out of the 40 named? To my utter sur- 
prise, I found not one alive. Now, do 
you believe that I am writing of "old 
timers?" 



CHAPTER XXVII. 



NEW TIMES IN OILDOM. 



This article begins witli what might be 
named "New Times in Oildom," as it is 
a mention of the latest in oil in Youngs- 
ville. Recently a Pittsburg company 
commenced drilling a well in this row 
of small wells below Youngsville, or on 
the very edge of the borough. And a 
w^ell a little farther west of that will 
be put down in the town by local parties 
and another four miles north of town 
will be put down by a foreign company. 
This seems like a revival of the oil busi- 
ness here, two commenced and two talked 
of. If it can be arranged to hitch the 
two dozen wells that have been drilled 
in Youngsville and vicinity together and 
run them with one power the produc- 
tion would pay nicely. If oil ever gets 
scarce, and rises in price, Youngsville 
will be an oil town. If all the wells put 
down in Youngsville and vicinity, say a 
distance of three miles in diameter, were 
hitched together it would make a nice 
thing for the owner or owners. Of course 
it would not be a big income, but it would 
help some. 

I will mention a change in the oil 
business in our nearby neighbor. Gar- 
land, seven miles west of Youngsville. 
Before the pipe line days, the oil came 
from Enterprise, Pleasantville and that 
section of the country by teams and 
wagons to Garland, and there the P. & 
E. railroad was reached and the oil was 
loaded on the cars for market. It came 
in barrels. Six or eight barrels made a 
wagon load, according to the size of the 



team. Eight barrels were a heavy tug 
for even the stoutest of teams. The 
roads were anything but smooth when 
the oil business struck the country. But 
when this array of teams began their 
tramping of the mud. a motar bed was 
soon formed that was something awful 
to behold and much more awful to navi- 
gate. When this mud became frozen, 
but still not quite hard enough to hold a 
horse's weight and not quite soft enough 
for ea = y wading, it was killing on the 
poor brutes, and not easy on the drivers. 
I, one day, met "Bob" McMillen, of Gar- 
land, driving a big "team of grays" with 
an eight-barrel load. "Bob's" face looked 
as though it had been through a thresh- 
ing machine. In crossing one of those 
corduroy bridges, he had been to-sed 
from his slippery seat on an oil barrel, 
alighting face downward on a rock. He 
was a sight, but he kept his place in 
that long line of teams until he reached 
the railroad and also helped unload his 
wagon. Garland was a lively little town 
in those days. A heavy lumber business 
was carried on. 

The D., A. v. & P. was not built then 
and the P. & E. had all the railroad bus- 
iness. Garland is not as large as it was 
at that time, but is a town more solid 
and permanent. The people have to a 
large extent pursued farming and depend 
on agriculture. Oil may come and oil 
may go, lumber may come and lumber 
may go, but the good soil will always 
be with them. Garland has soil that is 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



SI 



rather above the average Warren county 
soil and the inhabitants are of the thrifty 
kind, and they will not starve. The 
writer was a citizen of that town when 
he first began attending school and will 
make a mention of the first and only 
punishment that he ever received at any 
school. This was the way of it: An 
old Scotchman was the teacher. His 
rules were ironclad. One day when he 
"let the boys go out," one boy — a sort of 
an Ananias — said the schoolmaster asked 
him "to tell the other boys" to wade in- 
to the "West Run," a nice little stream 
that invitingly passed close to the 
schol house, and wash their feet. All at- 
tended school barefooted in those days, 
and, of course, our feet could bear con- 
siderable washing, and then not be any 
too clean. Well, believing this to be a 
reasonable request, we all pitched in, do- 
ing some lively kicking and splashing. 
When we were called in the teacher soon 
took a look at our drabbled pants. He 
called us out on the floor and lined us up 
in a row. Then he took his ferule — a 
great wide ruler — and grabbed each boy 
in rotation by the fingers, holding the 
palm of the hand upward. He then gave 
each one five heavy strokes, applying his 
whole pedagogical strength. That long, 
wide and heavy ferule had its effect on 
that line of a dozen boys in different 
ways. Some would quietly cry, some 
would cry with a loud voice, some would 
smile, and others hop and yell. I took 
my medicine with quiet heroism. The 
old bachelor teacher then permitted us 
to take our seats, and we put in the rest 
of the afternoon in considerable unhap- 
pineps, caused by wet pants and tingling 
fingers. And thus ended my first and only 
punishment, brought on by my faith in 
our Ananias. 

Before leaving the subject of this 
school house I wish to enlighten the 
present generation in regard to pioneer 
Sunday schools. My first Sunday school 
training was in this old Garland school 
house. The services consisted princi-, 
pally of committing Bible verses to mem- 
ory and reciting them to the teacher of 
tlie class. We had no leaflets, gotten 
out by the best Bible schools of the age, 
as we have now. The exercises were in- 
deed crude. But we worked the best we 
could considering the tools we had to 
work with. The class that I belonged to 
had a scolar, a boy by the name of Da- 
vid Moore. He had a good memory, but 
I had conceit enough about me to think 
that I could equal if not exceed him in 
that line. Well, I bantered him for a 
test. We agreed each to do our best for 
one week and, for our own enlighten- 
ment, find out which could to commit to 
memory the largest number of verses 
anS recite to our teacher at the end of 
the week. The result was: Moore, 145; 



and Brown, 105. David died many years 
ago after living an exemplary. Christian 
life. 

And now, before I leave this old school- 
house, let me tell a litle fish story: I 
fished for the beautiful and palatable 
speckled trout in the streams about Gar- 
land in those long ago days that I have 
been talking about. One day not satis- 
fied with the Garland fishing streams I 
hied me away a couple of miles to 
"Blueye" and fished all day, and failed 
to get a nibble at the hook. When on 
my way home I stopped on a bridge, 
right in front of the old schoolhouse, 
and as I had quite often discovered an 
immense trout, lying quietly in quite 
deep water, under this bridge, I took a 
peep through the cracks of the floor of 
the bridge, and there lay the big speckled 
trout. I immediately set myself about 
preparationes for his capture. I took my 
hook and line from my pocket, tied the 
line to a long stick, dug up a fish worm 
from the ground nearby, baited the hook 
with the worm, and slipped up noiseless- 
ly, and dropped the bait down through 
a convenient crack in the bridge, and 
watched the result. The bait landed on 
the gravel, on the bottom of the stream, 
about 10 inches in front of the trout's 
nose. I watched a moment, but no mo- 
tion of the fish. Just as I had made up 
my mind that the big fish was not 
hungry I noticed a very slight motion 
of its tail, but the movement was al- 
most as a lightning flash. He grabbed 
that bait on the run. and started for his 
hiding place under the edge of the bank. 
However, his rapid movement was stop- 
ped by my long stick and line. The re- 
sult was I pulled a trout up through 
that bridge that weighed a little over 
two pounds. This convinced me that 
fishing at home was better than two 
miles away in Blueye creek. This was 
the largest specked trout that I ever 
saw. except one. My brother and I were 
fishing in a mill pond, about 50 rods 
from the bridge that is spoken of above, 
about one month after this, and he 
pulled a speckled trout to just above 
the surface of the water and not being 
able to bring it ashore let it sink back 
into the water again. Being older, and a 
little stronger. I grabbed his pole, and 
swung the fish to land. That one weighed 
over two pounds and a half. Garland had 
big speckled trout 65 years ago. 

A recent fiood in the Brokenstraw 
creek reminded me of the old fellows of 
the rafting times which have passed 
away, when we had no railroads to car- 
ry the lumber. Such a freshet in the 
creek would have brought joy to the 
hearts of all the young men of the vicin- 
ity, for rafts would be running lively. 
j Think of the changes! When I piloted 
j my first raft on the Brokenstraw creek 



52 



OLD TIMES INOILDOM. 



there was not a railroad in the United i 
States. When the P. & E. road was built ! 
throug-h Youngsville many people had 
never heard a locomotive whistle. One 
man played a great joke on himself. ' 
When he heard the whistle of the old 
Ohio locomotive, "Zenia," the construc- 
tion engine, he seized his gun and ' 
started for town, about a mile distant, I 
with the intention of killing what he | 
thought was a panther. 

The locomotive "Zenia," spoken of 
above, was brought from some Ohio rail- 
road to haul the material for building 
the western division of the Philadelphia 
& Erie railroad. "Dick" Poor was the en- 
gineer and "Jim" Horigan was the con- 
ductor of the construction train. Scott 
Patten and William, his brother, were 
the contractors. Robert Beveridge, af- 
terwards cashier of an Oil City bank, 
who died recently, was the store clerk. 



The people of this section were unani- 
mous in thinking all those named were 
great men. They were bringing a rail- 
road into our isolated country. When 
the old locomotive would leave Youngs- 
ville for Corry after supplies, it would 
often be filled with women and men, 
anxious to have a ride on something pro- 
pelled by steam. The crowd would be 
so dense that it was with much diffi- 
culty that the fireman could shovel his 
coal. And "Dick" Poor, a big fat man, 
would share a seat at the lever with 
any of his free passengers. He was the 
very embodiment of good humor. In 
fact no one who wanted a ride on the old 
locomotive was turned away as long as 
there was room to sandwich in one more. 
Everybody in those days carried high 
heads and their faces almost said the 
words, "We are going to have a rail- 
road." 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

OLD TIME OIL TANKS. 



This article will begin with a 
few remarks on tank building be- 
fore it became a science. The first 
oil tanks that came under my ob- 
servation were on the ".Jim" Tar farm. 
And, Oh! what tanks they were! Per- 
haps a dozen or 15 were constructed at 
the Phillips well. They occupied all the 
little narrow strip of flat land that lay 
between the well and Oil Creek. They 
were made of pine plank. A hole was 
dug into the ground about eight or ten 
feet deep, the diameter varying some- 
where from eight to 12 feet. The top 
of the tanks were just even with the 
ground, being covered over with pine 
planks to prevent pedestrians from walk- 
ing into them at night. The few old 
operators who saw this kind of storage 
will bear me out in saying that there 
was a frightful amount of money in 
wastage. Oil wa-^; selling at from $8 to 
$14 a barrel, while the old Phillips well 
was gushing out hundreds of barrels a 
day, and the leakage from those home- 
made tanks ran into thousands and thou- 
sands of dollars. And it would make a 
young operator of the present day laugh. 
or cry, to see the owners getting oil into 
and out of those tanks. A three-cornered 
trough was made of boards an inch 
thick, but any width that came handy, 
and the oil that did not escape through 
the cracks and holes in those crude lit- 
tle conveyors ran in great streams from 
i-.e well to those things called tanks. 
And when a "pond fresh" would come 



down the creek, away the greasy fluid 
would go to the Allegheny river in a 
"bulk boat," which means an open boat, 
previously filled .jy pumping the oil with 
a dandy looking pump from the tank to 
the boat through the wooden pipe. It 
was not many moons, however, before 
improvements began to appear in the 
tank line. The late Frank Tarbell, of 
Rouseville, soon began to manufacture a 
wooden tank that could be set up above 
ground. And soon after iron pipes were 
used in the running of the oil in and 
out of the tanks. Mr. Tarbell, aside from 
his tank business, ran the only lumber 
yard at Rouseville. In addition to all 
this, he put down a few oil wells and 
found no dry holes. I had the pleasure 
of supplying the lumber for his yard 
and tank busines=!, and will say right 
here that in my long life I never dealt 
with a more honest and upright man. 
Nearly everybody has heard of Ida Tar- 
bell. At the time I speak of, she was a 
bright and lively school girl of 16. My 
wife and Ida were good friends. The 
young girl made visits at our home 
lasting several weeks. She was a fine 
piano player and a very pleasant visitor. 
At that time she had never thought of 
becoming an authoress of national re- 
pute. The Tarbell family become resi- 
dents, in after years, of Titusville, where 
Frank was a leader in the Methodist 
Episcopal church and in the up-building 
of the city in general. He continued in 
the oil business and other activities of 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



53 



life up to the time of his death not long 
ago. 

I wish to make a few remarks con- 
cerning a very important part of the oil 
trade, showing that the present times 
are better than "Old Times in Oildom." 
I'll speak of the matter of leasing oil 
lands. There is not much said about 
land sharks nowadays. But in those old 
times was there not "wailing and gnash- 
ing of teeth?" Sharpers soon laid plans 
to catch the unwary farmers, and they 
worked their games for all they were 
worth. To prove this I will give one case 
which is but one of many. I called upon 
a man of 80 years in McKean county. 
I found him sitting on a chair on his 
porch, churning butter in the old fash- 
ioned way, moving a "dasher" up and 
down. He was the picture of despair. 
This is his story, given to me as he pro- 
pelled that churn dasher: "I own a 100- 
acre farm that is without doubt one of 
the best oil farms in McKean county. 
But I am one of the most poverty strick- 
en men in this county. I leased my farm 
to an oil company before I had given the 
subject any thought. I went into writ- 
ings with this company blindly. The 
conditions of the lease were that the 
company was to put down one well with- 
in one year. They fulfilled their part of 
the agreement. The well went down, but 
when near the oil they spoiled the well. 
They filled it about half full of sand and 
worked and fussed with it a few days 
and pronounced it a failure. And that 
is the shape of things at present. Good 
wells are being struck all around my 
farm, but I am a poverty stricken man. 
The offer is so low that it is an insult 
to me. They know my situation and 
think that I will be obliged to accept 
their offer. Their offer Is so small that 
it would not help my family much when 
I drop off and I never will accept It. I 
cannot force them to clean out this well 
or put another down. They have ful- 
filled their contract. And I am in an 
awful shape. I am 80 years old and I 
have the consumption and I have 30 
acres of hay to cut, and not one dollar 
to hire men to do the work. And I can- 
not do a thing except the very lightest 
of work. I would be a rich man to-day 
if not for these land sharks, but as it 
now stands I am one of the poorest men 
in this country. There ought to be a 
law to hang such men as these men, who 
took advantage of my ignorance. I don't 
know what I will do." 

Thus ended my visit with the old 
gentleman and I left him looking the 
very exemplification of despair. A few 
months after that I saw the announce- 
ment in a paper of his death. Although 
really in the midst of wealth he died a 
poor man. But what a change has taken 
place in the last 25 years! We hear of 



few such complaints now. This leasing 
business has become a settled, honest 
business. Nearly all farmers are fully 
posted in this leasing business and 
at times they get the best of the oil man. 
As a general thing it now becomes a 
square deal between the farmer and the 
oil man. Both know their business, and 
there is a kind of sameness in the con- 
tracts, which leaves both parties satisfied. 
All pioneer operators well know that 
the rough and tumble way of doing 
business at the beginning has now 
been systematized. This is the age of 
progress. Any man of my age can look 
back and see changes that could not be 
described in a book as big as a barn. I 
have often thought that I would like 
to look back upon this old world 100 
years from now, and see how people 
would be doing things. If such strides 
in new inventions are made in the next 
100 years as have been made in the last 
100 years, what will this world look like? 
Perhaps the spirits of the dead can look 
back. The way things have been going 
I for the last few years a man cannot con- 
sistently doubt anything. A few years 
I ago if I had told people that two men 
could stand 3,000 miles apart and carry 
I on a conversation with each other over 
1 a wire, or that men could converse with 
I each other, standing hundreds of miles 
I apart, with no wire, I would have been 
' pronounced a fit subject for an insane 
asylum. Oh, how will it be 100 years 
hence? 

I have just thought of a strange hap- 
pening in my life, which is worthy of 
mentioning. The two extremes of heat 
and cold came to me at Conneaut Lake, 
Crawford county, Pa About 26 years 
ago I was in the temperance work, or- 
ganizing Good Templar lodges. I struck 
the lake about the middle of the after- 
noon, on a fearful cold day. The first 
call I made was on the postmaster. I 
found in him a strong temperance man. 
He put his name and the names of mem- 
bers of his family on my lists for ap- 
plication for membership, and invited 
me to take supper with him, which I 
did. It was the regular meeting night 
of the A. O. U. W. Being a member of 
thut order I attended their meeting, en- 
gaged the use of their hall and organized 
a lodge the same night. The postmaster 
and family did not come to the meeting. 
After the organization was completed I 
went to the only hotel in town. I 
walked into the office, traveling bag in 
hand. A lot of men sat around, and 
no one made a noise. I inquired for the 
landlord. A big fat fellow clapped hla 
hand on his breast, and said: "Here he 



IS, this big fat fellow." I asked for ac- 
commodations. He said the rooms were 
occupied. Said he, "Some of the beds 
have but one man in them, but they 



54 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



don't like to double up." I a.sked him if 
there was any other place that a man 
could get shelter at that time of night, 
11 p. m. He directed me to "a boarding 
house down on the edge of the lake, the 
<ast house at the end of the sidewaiK. 
I started out in the zero weather and 
pitch dark — no street lamps at that 
time. I got to the end of the walk, and 
found quite a large boarding house. I 
pounded on the front door, but got no 
response. I pounded again, with re- 
newed vigor. Same result. Then I tried 
my lung power — for all it was worth, 
but it was just as valuable as the 
pounding. Finally I was obliged to give 
it up as a bad iob. The next day 1 
learned that the ov/ner of the boarding 
house was a deaf woman, that could not 
hear me, and her helper was a foolish 
son. Between the two it was an impos- 
sibility for a belated stranger to gain 
admittance to that boarding house at 11 
p. m. I then retraced my steps up town. 
I felt somewhat lonely, as everybody in 
town was in bed and asleep, except the 
lone stranger. 

My next move was to rouse a doctor — 
one I had initiated that night into the 
I. O. G. T. lodge — from his slumbers. 
In response to my knock at his door, he 
appeared. I then told him my situation; 
that I had been turned away from the 
licensed hotel because I had organized a 
society that night which would work 
against his liquor trade, and that I could 
not get into the boarding house. The 
doctor was a good natured and well- 
meaning individual, but he said he had 
visitors and could not find room for me. 
He advised me to go to another of my 
Good Templar members. The doctor 
gave me verbal directions. Those di- 
rections were such that no one but an 
expert tramp organizer could follow 
them successfully. I failed as an ex- 
pert. I was told to go down street a 
little way, then cross a street, then up 
a street, with several turns, and stop at 
the third house on the left. I undertook 
the job of finding this brother, as I had 
nothing else before me to do. It was 
not an easy task — looking for a strange 
house in a strange town and as dark as 
a stack of black cats, and zero weather 
at that. After I had turned as many cor- 
ners as I thought would fill the bill and 
counted, in my mind, as many houses as 
the doctor had told me to — it really was 
so dark that I could not see a house — I 
walked up to a house that felt like the 
one that I was in search of, and rang 
the bell. I found it by sense of feeling 
and not by seeing. A man came to the 
door — I was at the wrong house, of 
course — and scolded out the directions 
so plainly that there was no misunder- 
standing them. 

The next hunt brought me to the hos 



Good Templar. I laid my case before 
him in as mild language as I could com- 
mand. His answer was, "We are in just 
as bad shape as the doctor. We have 
visitors and could not make room for 
you." By this time I had crowded my- 
self into his house and shut the door to 
keep out the zero air. I told my Dear 
Brother that as it was my first night in 
Evansburg — the town was plain Evans- 
burg then; it was before it became a 
noted summer resort — I would not care 
to stay out of doors, considering the 
temperature. By this time I had become 
almost saucy — perhaps desperate would 
be the better word. I cast iny shivering 
eyes around the room and beheld a cold 
wood stove setting there with two sticks 
of green wood lying near it and a lounge 
sitting near it also. I said, "Is there any 
fire in that stove?" He said, "No." Then 
I said, "Could you put some fire in it?" 
He answered in the affirmative. Then I 
said, "If you will heat the stove and 
give me a comforter I will sleep on that 
lounge." The brother disappeared to his 
bedroom and consulted his life partner, 
and soon came with this answer: "My 
wife says she has no comforter to 
spare." Then I said, "Put some fire in 
that stove and I will use my overcoat 
for a covering." He obeyed my com- 
mand and I laid down with all my clothes 
on except my overcoat, which took the 
place of what ought to have been about 
three comforters. I soon fell into a 
sleep, with uncomfortable dreams. 1 
waked up about four hours before day- 
light — the coldest man in Crawford coun- 
ty. Pa. That stove was cold as Alaska 
and I was nearly frozen. When I would 
wink, I could not only see stars, but I 
could actually see half-moons. I exam- 
ined that stove and found not a live coal 
in it. I saw two or three sticks of green 
wood on the floor. I concluded not to 
start a fire, for several reasons. First, 
no matches could be found; second, I 
could not make green wood burn if I had 
had the matches, and I did not feel like 
arousing my brother twice in one night. 
So I doubled up and held my feet in my 
hands and kept up a little circulation 
until my brother and entertainer came 
with some dry kindling wood and built 
a good fire in that cold stove. After 
daylight appeared and after partak- 
ing of a good breakfast I said 
good-bye to these Good Templars and I 
have never seen them since. When I 
saw the doctor at his office before I left 
I town, he eagerly asked me if I got a 
I bed I lold him that I did, and he seemed 
greatly pleased with the idea that I had 
found a downy bed. He never knew that 
I my bones were aching and did ache for 
four days afterwards. 

But now comes in the joke. I called 



pitable home of my newly made brotheri at the postofflce the next morning after 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



55 



my freezing and the postmaster said: 
"Where did you stay last night? My 
wife reserved a bed for you and sat up 
until midnight, keeping up a warm fire, 
for you. We could not get out to the 
meeting, but expected you to stay with 
us." Just think of it! A woman sitting 
up until midnight, keeping a good warm 
fire and making a bed for me, when I 
wa^ tramping all over town hunting for 
both and finding neither. 

And now for the other extreme — the 
extreme heat. It will take but a few 
words to give the heat side of it. About 
10 years after my work at Evansburg in 
organizing the Good Templars, I organ- 
ized an insurance lodge. Another man 
conducted the hotel. I stopped at the 
place nearly a week. My room was on 



the west side of the house. The first 
night I slept in that room was the 
warmest of my life. I slept on a feather 
bed. It was in tlie middle of summer 
and one of the hottest nights I ever 
saw, or felt. The window had been 
open all day and the afternoon sun had 
poured through the window onto that 
feathered bed, and to say that I had a 
hot night of it would be putting it 
mildly. There had been no rain for 
about six weeks. Now, reader, I 'think 
I have convinced you that I have met 
the two extremes of heat and cold in 
my experience in the same town. I 
would hesitate about visiting that place 
again, fearing that something awful 
migiit happen to me. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 



STARVING ANIMALS. 



There was a lot of talk about Theodore 
Roosevelt's horseback ride of 90 miles in 
one day, at the time he was president. I 
suppose that not one of his "subjects" 
in the United States took as long a 
horseback ride that day as did the chief 
executive. It reminds me of my ride 
from Titusville to Garland, 75 years ago, 
a distance of less than 20 miles. I rode 
behind my grandfather, astride of a big 
white horse. When I reached Garland 
my legs were unable to do duty satisfac- 
torily. When my grandfather, George 
McCray, of Titusville, lifted me from 
the horse and set me right end up on 
the ground, I staggered and fell, my legs 
being much benumbed. I well remember 
this, although I was but 6 years old. In 
fact, this is as far back as my memory 
runs. But I give up to President Roose- 
velt. I think he can hold the champion- 
ship for years and years to come — at 
least so far as I am concei-ned. 

The Rev. J. P. Burns, of the M. E. 
church, has been holding revival meet- 
ings here. He is a faithful Christian 
worker, and has started many souls out 
on the Christian pathway. His oratori- 
cal powers are far abov- the average. 
As a proof of the appi-eciation of his 
parishioners, he has preached here over 
eight years. The year he was called to 
the ninth year the call was signed by 
about three hundred petitioners. I men- 
tion these things in order to compare 
the present with the past. The first 
revival that I witnessed was carried on 
at what was called Whitestown, about 
midway between Pittsfield and Garland. 
•People were affected differently those 



days. Strong men would jump, 
and dance around, and . fall help- 
less to the floor, and lie as still as death 
for hours at a time. The leader of 
Methodism in Garland. John McCray, 
fell to the floor one day, about noon, and 
lay quietly nearly all the afternoon. He 
was a large strong man, in both mind 
and body. To young, unsophisticated 
eyes, this seemed a strange sight Men 
and women, oid and young, were there 
on that barn floor. They had no church 
then, and James White's barn did its 
full duty in that line. Generally before 
falling there would be considerable loud 
shouting. There is a little of the same 
style of worship carried on by the Free 
Methodists at the present time. Indeed, 
a Free Methodist church stands directly 
across the street from the home of the 
writer of this, and sometimes thev are 
quite noisy, but the noise of a Christian 
is music compared to the brawl of the 
drunkard, or protane man. There is one 
glorious feature about the Free Meth- 
odist church, and that is this: No man 
or woman can remain a member who 
uses intoxicating liquor or tobacco, in 
any form. If all the people on this old 
earth of ours, were Free Methodists, in 
this respect what happiness would reign 
supreme. Speaking of this invisible 
thing which the church people call "The 
Power," I will say it is impossible for 
me to give any satisfactory explanation 
or reason for it. My good wife and 1 
drove to Stilson's Hill, many years ago, 
to attend a United Brethren in Christ 
camp meeting, in the woods. The preach- 
er was eloquent and interesting, but he 



56 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



did not get to the end of his sermon. 
AVhen he had reached, perhaps, the mid- 
dle of his sermon, lie cast his eyes up- 
ward toward heaven, and exclaimed: 
"He is coming: He is coming!" and fell 
over bacVcwards on tlie floor of tlie plat- 
form. Another preacher took his place 
and finished his sermon without a 
break. Tlie preacher remained there 
until the meeting closed for the evening, 
and he had not moved a particle when 
wife and I left the camp ground. Oth- 
ers, men and women were lying around 
in the same comatose state. I have wit- 
nessed such exhibitions of "an unseen 
power" many times in my life, but I am 
no nearer solving the problem now than 
I was in the long ago. 

There is quite a contrast between the 
winter this year and one I recall about 
61 years ago. The snow fell about four 
feet deep and lay on the ground three 
months without thawing. Not an icicle 
was seen on the buildings for three 
months. Hay was "worth its weight in 
gold." On the fifth day of April my 
father and I drove a team the length of 
the Brokenstraw creek hunting for hay 
or some kind of feed for our cattle, and 
found but two dozen sheaves of oats. 
The snow was three feet deep the fifth 
day of the second month of spring. It 
thawed just a trifle, enough to melt the 
snow in the road and to make a little 
triclfling stream of water. It was a hard 
winter for the poor cattle, horses and 
sheep. There was too much snow in the 
woods. It was so deep that the deer 
could not wade through it and browse 
on the shrubbery, their usual winter 
diet, and the cattle could not do any bet- 
ter than the wild animals. Both the 
deer and tame animals died by the hun- 
dreds. My father lost a very valuable 
ox. It was starved to death, and a half 
dozen cows did not make good shadows 
in the spring. Such a thing could not 
take place now, as railroads are great 
distributors. If any article becomes 
scarce in one place and plenty in an- 
other place, the railroads will even up 
things. Just stop and think a moment. 
If we had been blessed with railroads at 
that time not one of those hundreds of 
poor cattle, horses, sheep, etc., would 
have died. A farmer was simply obliged 
to stand and see his poor suffering ani- 
mals die, with no earthly chance to feed 
them. 

Many people are fighting railroads to- 
day who have never lived without them. 
They do not realize the fact that all the 
new inventions of the last 70 years are 
real godsends to the very people who are 
fighting them. If those fighters had 
seen 81 years of progress, as has the 
writer of these lines, they would not be 
ready for fight every time some little 
mishap occurs. And in addition to the 
great and wonderful benefits of the rail- 



roads are the benefits of the telegraph, 
telephone and trolley lines. Now a busi- 
ness man can sit at his desk in his office 
and do business all over town. He can 
do more in 10 minutes at that 'phone 
than he could do a few years ago by 
footing it over town all day. He can do 
business with another man 10 or 15 
miles out in the country in a minute, 
when before Edison's Invention carriage 
hire and a whole day's time would have 
been required; or, if the business neces- 
sitates a personal interview, this busi- 
ness man can step into a trolley car, 
and wjthin a few minutes he is face to 
face with his customer. In addition to 
this, if he wishes to talk face to face 
or tongue to tongue, he can interview a 
man a thousand miles away. On the 
other hand, if a farmer wants to do 
business with a townsman, he can step 
to his 'phone and in a minute the busi- 
ness is transacted. A few years ago 
this same farmer would be obliged, on 
all occasions requiring his presence in 
town, to go to his barn, harness up old 
"Jim" or "Tom," hitch him to the buggy, 
if the farmer had one. If not he would 
have to to go a neighbor and borrow 
one, and drive over, at times, very rough 
roads to town and back, losing a half 
or a whole day. 

And then another great thing for the 
farmer, outside of the inventions, is the 
custom which has grown up like a mush- 
room recently of the merchant deliver- 
ing goods at the door of any customer 
regardless of the distance from the mer- 
chant's place of business. All the farmer 
has to do is to give a ring at his 'phone 
and say "Hello," and the goods are there 
when the horn blows calling the field 
men to the table. Is it any wonder that 
the farmers are paying off their mort- 
gages on their farms? They are saving 
millions of dollars in time saved by these 
late inventions of big-brained men like 
Edison. In fact, the farmer is the favored 
person now. "Uncle Sam" is really par- 
tial to him. The United States mall car- 
rier leaves his mail matter in boxes at 
his door, while the inhabitants of a town 
not large enough for free delivery must 
travel a mile or two and stand at the 
postofiJice window until the "mail is 
changed" and handed out to him. The 
farmers will soon be, and some of them 
are now, riding in automobiles and look- 
ing down on common folks. And the 
millions of dollars that they are sav- 
ing in time alone will be expended in 
beautifying this favored country for as 
a class they are the most economical of 
all workers. Edison never dreamed of 
the unspeakable benefit that he has 
brought to the world at large and still 
his head is too small to realize the 
many blessings he has brought to man- 
kind. 

I have wandered far from my sub- • 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



57 



ject of the deep snow. But I have never 
experienced such a winter again. Sev- 
eral very "soft" winters have come and 
gone since that time. The young people 
of this country will remember that 10 
or 12 years ago, we were not favored 
with one day of good sleighing all win- 
ter. Farmers plowed nearly every day 
and could have plowed every day if they 
had wished to do so. Another winter, 45 
or 50 years ago, was its equal. My 
father had prepared for an all-winter 
log hauling with two yoke of oxen. He 



had but one outfit, so he bought another 
yoke of oxen, bobsleds and chains, and 
all was ready for the hauling of those 
logs one and a half miles to Youngsville, 
to the nearest mill, to have them cut 
into boards, but not a day of sledding 
came, and consequently not a log was 
hauled. By the time of the next sleigh- 
ing, one year afterwards, the logs were 
so badly decayed and hurt by the worms 
that we had "cull" boards when they 
were sawed. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

OLD TIME QUADRILLE BAND. 



In a recent article I spoke of dancing, 
but gave but little dancing news. It wilJ 
be interesting to the people of to-day to 
hear a little about the dancing of the 
olden days. Time was when there were 
more dancers in this part of the coun- 
try than musicians. The violinists who 
cculd play and call quadrilles at one and 
the same time were few and far between. 
"U'arren did not have a fiddler in the bor- 
ough when your humble servant be- 
longed to a quadrille band composed of 
players from Youngsville and Pittsfield, 
who had a corner on the dancing music 
in all Warren county. We played for 
private parties at Orris Hall's, Thomas 
Struthers' and other "upper ten" fami- 
lies of the county seat. One night we 
took but a part of our band. William 
Stright and son, Orra, and myself. When 
we arrived at the stone mansion of the 
Hon. Thomas Struthers we found more 
guests than could dance in the parlors 
down stairs. We were obliged to split 
our band, and Stright and son took the 
upstairs crowd and I the downstairs 
crowd. The Struthers house contained 
an organ upstairs and a piano down- 
stairs. I lacked a piano player to make 
my music acceptable and I was more 
than pleased when the cultured, hand- 
some and amiable daughter of Mr. 
Struthers offered her services and sat 
down and played a beautiful accompani- 
ment from 10 p. m. until 4 a. m. with- 
out missing a set, although her young 
lady cousin offered to give her a rest by 
taking her place at the piano. She re- 
fused, saying that she was not in the 
leest fatigued, a few years after I 
read of her death with much regret. The 
remembrance of her helping me out with 
my side of the music that night still 
lingers. Without her piano my lone vio- 
lin would have given out doleful strains 
for that large crowd of Warren people. 



Being the only quadrille band in the 
county and our music being In de- 
mand, gave us somewhat of a high opin- 
ion of ourselves, so we arranged a series 
of balls in this section of country. 

We commenced the round at Tidioute. 
The young people of Grandintown did 
not tumble over on3 another to reach 
our ball. Our aggregation of three mu- 
sicians only made enough, at so much 
per couple, to pay our lodging, board and 
horse feed. We owned our own rig or 
we should have failed to reach our ap- 
pointment at the next town, Titusville, 
where neither Drake nor oil was known 
at that time. When we arrived at Ti- 
tusville we found a rather poor prospect 
of a turnout. Jack McCray, then a mill 
man, came to the rescue, and saved vis 
from an utter failure by getting out 
among the young dancers, with whom 
he seemed to be immensely popular, and 
in his impetuous way, got out enough of 
his young friends to save us from utter 
defeat. The next morning we found that 
we lacked one dollar of enough money to 
pay our hotel bill. As there was but one 
hotel in town, the landlord had a mo- 
nopoly of the business, and his bill being 
a trifle larger than the TiJioule bill, left 
us one big dollar short. But we soon 
found that his confidence in us fiddlers 
was as big as his bill. He cheerfully 
took our word for it, inat we would send 
him that dollar after we reached the 
moneyed town of Youngsville. And we 
kept our word. On our arrival home we 
enclosed a yellow gold dollar, and our 
band thereby kept itself in good finan- 
cial standing. Our band held a council 
of war, and in about a minute come to 
the conclusion that disappointment 
would come to but few if we would call 
off our appointments ahead of us, and 
take the shortest route to our homes in 
the Brokenstraw valley. When, after a 



58 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



pleasant sleighride through Enterprise, 
and where Grand Valley now stands — 
no town there at tliat time — the same 
with Torpedo, Garland, we called at 
Pittsfield, where on short notice the 
sprightly young people of that burg got 
up a dance that exceeded both tlie oth- 
ers. Thus ended our self-appointed 
dances — only three miles from home. 
We took this view of the whole thing; 
that what we lost in time, we made up 
in knowledge. We learned the fact that 
the young people knew when they 
wanted to dance better than we did. 

After that we waited until we were 
sent for before going to play for a dance. 
And we were sometimes sent for as of- 
ten as every night in a week. Once in 
awhile two dances would come off the 
same niglit. Then we would be obliged 
to divide our band. Several times I was 
obliged to "go it alone" both calling and 
sawing on the violin. I think I did more 
poor playing those days than any other 
man. I never was a match for Ole Bull, 
but as there were no Y. M. C. A.s, basket 
ball gymnasiums or women's clubs, the 
young people had to do something, and 
that something was shaking the "heavy" 
fantastic heel. Some call it the "light 
fantastic toe," but I like to have things 
changed. 

But nothing lasts forever. As time 
passed along musicians became more 
plenty, some migrating to our county 
and some educating themselves. I final- 
ly bought a book called "The Violin 
Without a Master." It was a good and 
appropriate name for me. I never be- 
came "master" of the violin, consequent- 
ly it was a violin without a master at 
our house. The first outsider that came 
to Youngsville to compete with our band 
and capture the affections of the best 
looking young ladies, was a very prepos- 
sessing young man named "Bob" Cross. 
He captured the whole crowd of dancing 
young people, both male and female. He 
had only to throw out a hint that he 
wished a benefit and the ball room would 
be crowded in a few hours. In fact, 
"Bob" ran the town, as far as the young 
people were concerned, and many old 
people thought he was "all wool and a 
yard wide." All doors were open to 
"Bob" Cross. He had only to crook his 
finger and what he wanted was forth- 
coming. He was an extremely sweet 
player on the violin, but he "played by 
ear." He never learned to read music. 
But he was a sort of Blind Tom in pick- 
ing up a tune as soon as he heard it. 
Politics came in handy then and we 
made him a member of our quadrille 
band, fearing that he would run us out 
entirely. He played several years in our 
band, then married into a wealthy fam- 



ily, finally dying a few years afterwards. 

Others who have helped me out with 
my music and who have since passed 
away were Josiah Duprey, wlio was an 
honest, easy-going young man, and who 
died about four years ago; Enoch Du- 
prey, brother to Josiah; William Stright, 
a composer of music, who led a quadrille 
band many years, and who in his riper 
years worked in a sawmill at Vorwinkle, 
Forest county. Pa., for a period of 10 
years and loved his violin so well that 
he played nearly every evening for tlie 
free entertainment of the hardy lumber- 
men at his boarding house, and who died 
about five years ago — sending out sweet 
strains from his violin until 10 p. m., 
then went to sleep. In the morning lie 
was found dead in bed. He had played 
his last tune. To my notion, Mr. 
Stright's only daughter, Nellie, is the 
best pianist in the city of Bradford, 
where she now resides. I know this is 
high praise, as Bradford is full of fine 
pianists. His anly son, Orra, is one of 
the best violinists of the country. Ches- 
ter Shaw, the bass violin player of our 
band, met a tragic death at Clarendon, 
Pa., by falling into a tank of oil and 
perishing by asphyxiation. Another, 
William Jewell, a justice of the peace 
for many years and a merchant of North 
Warren, died eight or ten years ago. Of 
the many who have helped make music 
for the dancers of long ago, none but 
Calender Arthur, of Warren, Pa., and 
Perry Acocks, of Pittsfield, Pa., are alive 
to-day. 

Before leaving the subject I must 
speak of one novelty. At one time our 
band consisted of William Stright. jus- 
tice of the peace; Calender Arthur, con- 
stable of Brokenstraw township. Pa.; 
Chester Shaw, constable of Pittsfield 
township. Pa., and G. W. Brown, cor- 
oner, Youngsville borough, Warren coun- 
ty. Pa. This gave us a full band of 
peace officers — enough to keep peace at 
all times In those days the balls were 
made up from mixed crowds. It was 
seldom tliat an invitation party was 
held. It required the whole population 
to make a "big crowd." The oil country 
crowds had not "arrived" at the time I 
am speaking of. And strange to say at 
all those private parties and public balls 
I never saw a fistic encounter in the 
rooms where the ladies and gentlemen 
were when I was one of the musicians. 
It is true in writing "Old Times in Oil- 
dom" I mentioned a knockdown on a 
dancing floor at Petroleum Center, but 
I was not one of the regular musicians. 
I only assisted the regular musicians 
temporarily or until I was forever fright- 
ened away and stopped helping to make 
music for "wicked dancers." 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



59 



CHAPTER XXXI. 



CHURCHES IN THE OLD TIMES. 



I will next mention the growth of the 
churches in the Brokenstraw valley. 
The first church that I, in my babyhood, 
attended, was no church at all. It was 
a school house — my first school house. 
We sat on pine slabs, with holes bored 
in them, and with wooden legs driven 
into them. These made seats, but very 
uncomfortable ones. There were no 
backs to them. The occupants were 
obliged to sit up stroight, with no back 
support, or else they were forced to lean 
forward. The singing was carried on 
without the assistance of musical in- 
struments. No church in Warren coun- 
ty had an organ to lead the untrained 
singers. Robert and Moses Andrews, 
two brothers, were the "standbys" in 
that school house in the singing line. 
Robert sang soprano, and "Mose" sang 
bass. To my young ears that bass voice 
of "Mose" Andrews was melody, indeed. 
It gave me a kind of liking for the bass 
part in music, either instrumental or 
vocal, which is still within me at the 
age of fourscore. It is very doubtful 
about my living long enough to lose my 
liking for this part of a .juartette. Alto 
comes next in the four parts of a quar- 
tette, but I had not heard the sweet and 
captivating strains of the part named 
alto at that time. Soprano and bass was 
the whole dependence in all churches in 
T^^arren county. This congregationa' 
singing, at the old log school house hi 
Garland, wtus participated in by John 
McCray, the real standby of the church 
— the Mandevilles, the Hamiltons, 
Browns — the father and mother of the 
writer. The Uptons and many others, 
had fine natural, untrained voices, and 
better melody than one would suppose — 
considering the absence of tenor and 
alto — floated out of the windows and 
doors of that old school house. The 
preachers at this "church" were .iusi 
such as could be picked up occasionally. 
The Bible expounders of those days were 
not men of very much "book larnin"," 
but in the matter of real Christianity 
they were full equals of the college bred 
doctors of divinity of the present time. 

Well, in the course of time, our family 
flitted down the creek as far as Youngs- 
ville. There we attended a frame church, 
with a regular preacher. This church 
was a good type of the church of that 
day. It had no steeple or belfry. It was 
a square sort of a structure, with a gal- 
lery all around, except the end where 
the tall candlestick pulpit stood. The 
preacher was obliged to climb a pair 



of stairs to get into it and when he 
reached it he had barely room to stand 
in it. This pulpit had every indication 
of a scarcity of lumber and space for 
its diminutive proportions. The choir here 
had tenor and alto, in addition to the 
other parts necessary for the making 
of a good church choir. This was the 
only church in Youngsville and was a 
Methodist church, with good and faith- 
ful members. The standbys were the 
Meads, Davises, Whitneys, Siggins, Mc- 
Kinneys, Hulls, Arthurs, Kinnears and 
others. The main singers in the choir 
were the Arthurs and Davises. The choir 
sat up in the gallery opposite the pulpit. 
After a few years an innovation came in 
the shape of a big bass viol played by 
a stump puller named Evans. It was a 
short lived innovation. After the first 
hymn was sung, with bass viol accom- 
paniments, an old member of the church 
whose word was law walked down the 
aisle, climbed up the stairs and came 
in front of the choir and pointing his 
finger at the huge instrument exclaimed 
in a voice not easily misunderstood: 
"Take that ungodly fiddle out of this 
choir and keep it out." The command 
was obeyed, with alacrity, and that was 
the first and last bass viol music for that 
Youngsville choir. M^hen the preacher 
read the next hymn profound silence fol- 
lowed, not a chirp was heard from any 
member of the choir. Finally a weak 
quavering voice struck up a hymn and 
we had congregational singing in that 
church for quite a long time. Then 
as time passed by a choir was organized 
and strange to relate, an organ crept into 
this last organization with but little 
opposition. A gradual change came in 
music matters. The old member who 
vetoed the bass viol was just as honest 
in his opinion that instrumental music 
was an evil, as the old members of to- 
day are that instrumental music is a 
blessing. If the old gentleman was 
alive to-day. and could step into General 
Charles Miller's Sunday School in the 
first Baptist church, of Franklin, Pa., 
and hear the orclwstra of a dozen pieces 
manipulated by professional musicians, 
and hear the soul stirring religions 
hymns that delight the hearts of a 
thousand worshippers, both young and 
old, every Sunday afternoon, the year 
around, he would no doubt enjoy the 
sweet and soft Heavenly strains as much 
as any other listener. No man in Youngs- 
ville was a more devout worshipper than 
he, and no man who knew this old man 



6o 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



here on earth has the least doubt of his 
listening for these many years to the 
Heavenly orchestra that makes sacred 
music in the golden streets of the New 
Jerusalem. 

Well, time moves on, and the church 
of Youngsville has been sold to the Luth- 
eran Swedish congregation, who have 
torn it down and replaced it by a beau- 
tiful brick structure of late design, and 
the M. E. congregation has a brick build- 
ing to worship in. In addition to the 
two churches mentioned above, Youngs- 
ville has a Free Methodist church and 
an Episcopal church, the two latter 
named built of wood, and before many 
moons the United Brethren in Christ wiH 
have a brick church building. 

And now a few remarks as to many 
churches in many places in this country. 
I'll begin with the Cumberland, Taren- 
tum. Pa. I organized an insurance lodge 
tnere about 18 years since. It is the so- 
ciability and lack of sociability of 
churches that I will speak of. I had for 
my chaplain the pastor of the church 
named above. I attended the regular 
Sunday services at his church the first 
Sunday I was in town. No man or wo- 
man spoke to me. Not one word to "the 
stranger in their midst." The next day 
I met the pastor and in a kind of non- 
complaining way told him that sociabil- 
ity was at a low ebb in his church. His 
answer was: "I am well aware of It 
and have been ever since I came here. 
Next Sunday I will preach a sermon on 
sociability." I was on hand the next 
Sunday and the good man preached a 
very eloquent sermon. After the bene- 
diction was pronounced I remained 
standing at the end of my pew until 
nearly the entire congregation had passed 
out, by me, waiting for a friendly hand- 
shake. I waited in vain. One old, bald- 
headed, fat, good-natured looking fellow 
came up the aisle. My hopes went up. 
Surely such a pleasant face and open 
countenance would not follow the exam- 
ple of those who had preceded him. But, 
like the priest and the Levite who 
"passed by on the other side," his eyes 
were steadily fixed on the church door 
and soon he was wending his way to his 
Sunday dinner without a word for me. 
I gave all a fair chance to cheer the 
heart of the lonely stranger, but none 
seemed to act as if the forcible sermon 
of their pastor had "struck in." And the 
only hope I had was 'that the sermon 
might, like vaccination, work by degrees 
by giving it time. 

The next place I attended church was 
in a high-toned edifice in Pittsburg. 
Tarentum was reversed here. A very 
pleasant usher conducted me to a cen- 
trally located seat and soon the master 
of that pew came with his family, wife, 
daughter and son. After the benediction 
they introduced themselves in such an 



agreeable manner that I could not help 
draw-ing a comparison. The next church 
visited was the First M. E. church of 
Parkersburg, "W. Va. I happened to so- 
journ in the West Virginia city three 
months. During that length of time I 
attended the First M. E. church 10 times. 
Here I found the members all "priests 
and Levites." They all "passed by on 
the other side," except the pastor and 
his wife and one alderman and his wife. 
These four had joined my insurance 
lodge and had a fraternal hand to offer 
me. As to the effect of the lack of so- 
ciability, I will state the case of a rail- 
road oiTiciars wife. She informed me 
that she had lived in Parkersburg two 
years, had attended that church regular- 
ly and had seldom been spoken to. She 
held a transfer letter from another M. E. 
church, but she had concluded to never 
offer her letter. But now I come to the 
contrast. I was stopping at the Palace 
hotel and one Sunday evening got into 
conversation with a Presbyterian com- 
mercial traveler from Cincinnati. He in- 
vited me to go witli him to the Presby- 
terian church. He said he was a stranger 
in the city and would like to have com- 
pany. I told him that I was a Metho- 
dist, but the M. E. church that I had been 
attending there was but a little above 
zero and I would try the Presbyterians 
that night; but as the Presbyterians had 
a great new stone church, resembling a 
fine theatre, I had my doubts about find- 
ing a warmer atmosphere there than at 
the M. E. But there is nothing like 
making the effort to find out things. So 
I accompanied my new-made friend and 
we were soon seated in a pew behind two 
ladies, who were dressed in their "silks 
and satins." We were not more than 
seated by a warm-hearted and smiling 
southern usher than both ladies handed 
their hymn books to us and gallantly de- 
prived themselves of those useful ar- 
ticles. When the services closed these 
pleasant Christian ladles took us by the 
hand, inquired about our place of resi- 
dence and invited us to come again. It 
had been so long since I had been treated 
that way I hardly knew how to act. 

Tlie next Sunday evening I attended 
the M. E. church South and there I found 
a duplicate of the Presbyterian recep- 
tion, only more so. A fine gentleman, 
son and two daughters, composed the 
quartette, and that church had fine sing- 
ing. The leader, or father of the help- 
ers, invited me to dinner the next day 
and I had good cheer all round, but a 
surprise awaited men when, in addition 
to the vocal music, they brought forth 
four instruments and rendered some 
very fine band music. Now don't think 
me egotistical, for I am writing this to 
show the great difference between social 
churches and non-social churches. No 
one but a wanderer can fully appreciate 
these things. 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



6i 



Now, let me say a word about the min- 
isters of the gospel. In all my organiz- 
ing work in getting up and organizing 
475 lodges, I never met a better class of 
men than the preachers of all denomina- 
tions. They are the most provident men 
found in the country. Not more than 
one in 30 omits to carry insurance for 
the families. They look at it in this 
light: They are not expected to make 
and lay up a fortune to protect their 
families when they are gone. They can- 
not do it and follow the work of their 
Lord and Master, but they can pay a 
dollar or two a month from their salar- 
ies and keep their families safe all the 
time, and they do it. No class of men 
in the country are so generally insured. 



A preacher without insurance is indeed 
a novelty. I have taken into insurance 
lodges over 300 preacliers of different de- 
nominations. Indeed, I have never found 
a Disciple preacher in all my work in five 
states who did not become a member of 
one of my lodges, securing his family 
against want at the time of his death. 
I had five ministers of the gospel in one 
lodge in Clarion, Pa., four M. E. clergy- 
I men and one Baptist. About a dozen of 
i my clerical members died, leaving $1,000 
1 to $2,600 for the protection of their fam- 
j ilies. One Presbyterian minister. Rev. 
I.saac Smith, of Tonawanda, N. Y., died 
four months after joining, leaving his 
i wife $2,600. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

GOD BLESS THE SWEDES. 



I am going back a little beyond "oil- 
dom" to begin this particular article. My 
mind wanders back 50 years to a time 
when we had springtime all win- 
ter. In those days the main busi- 
ness was either making shingles or 
boards, and the hauling of this lumber 
made lively times. From the break of 
day until long after dark a steady 
stream of teams lined the streets. Near- 
ly every farm from Toungsville to 
Sugargrove and beyond into York state 
had pine trees growing on the uncleared 
portions. And the uncleared was gener- 
ally the largest part of the farm. All a 
majority of the farmers had in those 
days was a log liouse in the woods, with 
a very few acres cleared. Each settler 
had a log shingle shanty close by his 
domicile, where, from 4 o'clock in the 
morning until 10 at night, the faithful 
builder-up of this wild country would 
be found either "riving" or shaving 
shingles. If he had a voice for singing 
he would use it for all he was worth. 
Trouble seldom came to him because of 
the fact that there was but little in the 
country to be troubled about — no rail- 
road right of way across his farm to 
worry about; no trolley lines being sur- 
veyed through his orchard, garden or 
dooryard; no telegraph poles being set 
near "the old oaken bucket that hung in 
the well"; no telephone agent putting a 
machine in his house despite his remon- 
strances;no bicycles bumping up against 
him; no automobiles chasing him into 
the fence corner and causing his horse 
to run away; no millionaires being killed 
by their great steam or gasoline wagons; 
no railroad accidents, for the good rea- 



son that there was no railroad; but few 
burglaries, because there were but little 
money or jewelery to steal; no flying 
machines, liable to light on the roof of 
log houses at any moment: no earth- 
quakes, worth speaking of; no oil or gas 
fires, and but few murders, for the rea- 

1 son that there were but few Harry 

! Thaws and Hains brothers in the coun- 
try. In fact, the hard-working shingle 
maker had but little to worry about — 
barring sickness and death, which came 
to him, as to all mankind, in all ages 
of the world. Of course there were good 

I and bad shingle makers. The good ones 
had nothing on their minds but the hap- 
piness of their families, and the bad 
ones had not as many chances to wander 
from the straight and narrow path as 
can be found now-a-days. There were 
but little bank stealing, through dis- 
honest officers, because there were few 
banks to "break." However, the bad 
shingle makers had one peculiar sin to 

I answer for, and the sin was almost 
hereditary. In riving his shingles he 
would split the shingles so close to the 
knots in the timber that it was impos- 

1 sible to shave them so that they would 
be of any value whatever. It required 
five times as much labor to make this 
crooked shingle fit into the "bunch" 
nicely to deceive the buyer as it required 

I to shave a good straight shingle. And 

i the timber in m.any cases was stolen, 
costing the maker nothing. It was one 
of the puzzles "past finding out" why 
this extra labor should be put on these 
frauds, which only amounted to some 
tall swearing by profane carpenters 

' down the Allegheny, Ohio and Missis- 



62 



OLD TIMES I N OILDOM. 



sippi rivers. It would try the heart of 
the best Christian purchaser of several 
thousand shingles to find his good money 
paid to the raftsman that had landed his 
raft by his river farm about one-fourth 
dead loss. When the purchaser opened 
the bunches of shingles his usual way of 
disposing of this fraudulent part would 
be to make a bonfire of them. The worst 
of this business was the fact that the 
purchaser always found himself short of 
the required amount of shingles and 
would be compelled to send off some- 
where to buy again before he could put 
his roof on his building. I never heard 
of one of the defrauded purchasers put- 
ting the law in force against those ras- 
cals. The barges immediately "pulled 
out" and floated down the river, perhaps 
cheating several more innocent buyers 
before tlie first purchaser had opened a 
bunch of shingles. The purchaser always 
pocketed his loss with as much grace as 
possible rather than undertake to find 
the man who defrauded him. Pinkerton 
was not around about in those days. 
Now all that the purchaser would have 
to do would be to give warning and he 
would be a cute shingle seller that could 
escape the penalty of such a transaction. 
At the present time no such crimes as 
the ones just described could take place, 
as no shingles are shaved by hand and 
the tall pines are few and far between. 
Shingles are now made by machinery, 
as nearly everything else in the way of 
manuiactured goods. The tld shingle 
shanties have all gone the way of the old 
log nouses and indeed the occupants of 
both are nearly all gone. As a proof of 
this I will say that I, very recently, 
counted the deaths that have taken 
place on four miles of the street leading 
from Youngsville to Sugargrave within 
50 years. The number surprised me. Al- 
though not a village intervenes, only 
farms all along that road, the number 
is 137. "All are born to die." One fam- 
ily on this road, named Duprey, con« 
sisted of husband and wife and 14 chil- 
dren. All the children were married, 
save one, 50 years ago. Now all — father, 
mother, sons, daughters, sons-in-law, 
and daughters-in-law — are dead, but the 
youngest daughter. 

W'lien the timber was gone from this 
section of the country tlie people at first 
thought they could not make a living 
without the tall green pines, but time 
has proved that the clearing and culti- 
vating of the soil is much more to be 
depended upon tlian the pines. Consid- 
erable of the wealth of Warren county 
now consists in nice farms. And let me 
say that the light-haired Swedes have 
done as much to bring these farms to 
perfection as the native Americans. 
Where a few years ago wooded hills, 
valleys and swamps abounded beauti- 
ful farms, with orchards, painted houses 
and barns, fat cattle and horses, and 



everything pertaining to a well-equipped 
farm, are found. God bless the Swedes! 
They take to the American way of do- 
ing things as a duck takes to water. 
Just stop a moment to think what these 
people from the bleak country of the 
Scandinavians have done for us in this 
part of Uncle Sam's domain. They have 
built up whole streets in Youngsville 
and most of the neat farms surround- 
ing the town are owned and occupied by 
families who spell the last syllable of 
their names with the three letters, "son." 
Then look at Kane, McKean county, Pa. 
The town would be in the woods but 
for these same industrious Johnsons, 
Swansons. Carlsons, Ericksons, Peter- 
sons, Samuelsons, Thompsons and many 
other "sons." The traveler who has 
passed from Kane to Mt. Jewett has 
noticed the continual string of new 
farms all along both sides of the B. & 
O. railroad for the whole distance ot 
12 miles from Kane to Mt. Jewett. When 
I passed between these two enterprising 
towns I was informed by an old settler 
that every farm, except one, and that 
was owned by a Frenchman, was owned 
and occupied by Swedes. It looks as if 
it were not for the Swedes owls, bears 
and wildcats might now be inhabiting 
these farmlands. 

Almost the same can be said of the 
land along the B. & O. road west of 
Kane. Then look at Jamestown, N. Y. 
One wing, called Brooklin, I think, is 
composed entirely of Scandinavians, and 
it is a very prosperous part of the city 
at the outlet of Chautauqua Lake. A few 
years ago I attended a county agricul- 
tural fair at Jamestown, N. Y. The first 
tiling that attracte.l my attention was 
the Penton, or Pendergrast, Guards 
marching down the sidehill street. When 
I spoke of the melodious music and fine 
uniform of the band and the precise 
step of the military company to an old 
resident he informed me that every 
member of both the band and military 
company was a Swede. And when I vis- 
ited the fair grounds and saw tlie mili- 
tary drill and listened to the strains 
from those "sons of a cold climate" I 
tnought that surely James*^own would 
have had a dull fair if iiot for her 
adopted "sons" from Sweden. And I 
do not have to go to Jamestown and 
Kane to see the beauties of this foreign 
population. I can travel a mile from 
tlie borough of Youngsville to the top 
of Huirs Hill and cast my eyes west- 
ward, southward, eastward, northward, 
and I see a panorama of fine, well-kept 
farms stretched out before me. The ques- 
tion arises, "Who cleared up this rough 
wooded country and made it blossom as 
the rose?" The answer echoes back: 
"The Swedes." 

But I have wandered away from my 
old shingle makers and left them sitting 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



63 



on a bench, pulling the draw shave. Be- 
fore they were entirely through with 
this hard hand work shingle mills came 
by slow degrees, but circular saws and 
steam have done the work in fast time. 
One set of four men will now make 25,- 
000 shingles in a day, whereas 1,000 
were a day's work for one man by hand. 
No other than sawed shingles can be 
found now days. The sound of the frow 
and maul is not heard in the land; 
neither are many of the wielders of the 
maul heard in the land. Their homes 
are the cemeteries in the many parts 
of the lumber region. Their farms are 
now generally occupied by their des- 
cendants, who perhaps but seldom think 
of the hardships their fathers and 
mothers endured. They do things so 
different and everything is so different 
that thoughts of the absent ones are sel- 
dom brought to mind. Sometimes an en- 
tirely useless old spinning wheel or 
some other old relic is seen tucked away 
in some old, dusty garret that is a re- 
minder of times long since gone by. But 
the sight of an old "little wheel" for 
spinning flax or a "big wheel" for spin- 
ning woolen rolls into yarn, to be knit 
into stockings, has but little effect on a 
person who has never heard the buzzing 
or whizzing of them. The writer of this 
has heard this kind of music so often in 
his early boyhood that he can now — in 
his mind's ear — hear it distinctly as his 
mother sits, turning the "distaff" and 
feeding the "little wheel," and his eldest 
sister is making lively steps pulling out 
the woolen rools and making long yarn 
preparatory to being sent to that intelli- 
gent being called the "weaver" of home- 
made cloths on the big wheel. And 
added to this instrumental music would 
be the vocal music from both of those 
loved relatives. 

And when it comes to the subject of 
derricks, how familiar they become to 
one who has lived in sight of them ever 
since the first derrick was built to be 
used in producing oil. I'll give a leaf 
from my own experience. About 15 
years ago I took a trip into Ohio, or- 
ganizing fraternal insurance lodges. I 
was gone from the old Keystone state 
four months and in that time organized 
15 lodges. When I had worked about 
three months, without seeing a derrick 
or getting a smell of the oleaginous 
fluid, I landed at Prairie Depot, O. When 
I got off the train I saw tall derricks all 
around me and I also inhaled the, to me. 
delicious smell of "Seneca" oil. The odor 
was a little stronger than that in Penn- 
sylvania, but not too strong for me. I 
will not try to tell the real joy of the 
moment. I had been deprived of the 
sight of a derrick for a long three 
months, the only three months since the 
striking of the first oil well in this coun- 
try. I felt really at home among the 
"yellow hammers," all on account of the 



sight of those derricks and the smell of 
that Ohio oil. The last month of the 
four I stuck to the oil country and felt 
very much like being in old Pennsylva- 
nia. In fact I was among Pennsylvan- 
ians. No oil town is complete without 
Pennsylvanians living in it. And it is a 
well known fact that all oil towns have 
new citizens from the old Keystone 
state, where the oil business was born, 
and the author feels proud of the fact 
that he and the oil business were born 
only nine miles apart. I tarried four 
days at Prairie Depot, organizing a 
lodge of 40 members, exactly half "yel- 
low hammers ' and half "bluejays." the 
latter name given by the Ohio citizens 
and the former given by Pennsylvanians, 
who had taken up their abode among 
the Ohio oil wells. 

I found a novelty in this town. A na- 
tive-born citizen in the shape of a young 
man of 20 years took It into his head 
that he was a barber. He hired a room, 
bought a chair and a razor or two and 
put out a striped pole and commenced 
shaving men — no, not shaving, but pull- 
ing out their beard by the roots. His 
method was to seat a customer in the 
chair, put a dirty towel around his neck, 
mix up some lather, dip his brush into 
it. spread it on the face of his customer, 
grab his razor and try to cut off the 
growth. He made an utter failure of 
getting all the beard from the fact that 
he made no attempt to soften it. He 
didn't give one second to the rubbing in 
of the lather. I stood this kind of tor- 
ture twice while I was a guest of that 
town of rich soil, covered with big oil 
wells and droves of black hogs. I have 
given this space to the barber free of 
charge, knowing full well that it will not 
interest the general reader. Commercial 
men, who are shaved by many different 
barbers, will wonder at this, as no doubt 
nearly all have endured such chairs. 
As I have been shaved by more than a 
thousand different barbers and I never 
found this young man's "double." 

I must not close without giving a 
winding up word to the reader. Those 
old pioneers have all gone on to a land 
where the golden gardens are already 
cleared and awaiting their arrival. Their 
descendants are enjoying the improve- 
ments of the age. The shingle shaving 
was finished before their fathers left 
this earthly abode. Now a trolley runs 
from Youngsville to Sugargrove, also 
three 'phone lines and a mail delivery 
route, so you see that these descendants 
have no need of losing a day occasional- 
ly going to town on horseback, in a bug- 
gy or afoot for little errands. The old 
settlers never dreamed of these conven- 
iences. These time-savers make wealthy 
tillers of the soil. The farmer now 
raises blooded horses and cattle and 
sells them for double the money that his 



64 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



father could get, and chickens, eggs and thing that happens will be the opulent 
crops of all kinds bring a price unbe- farmer riding in his automobile, and 
lievable to the "old man," who split and [ some of them do that very thing now, 
shaved the shingles. The prices on i and others are financially able to do so. 
farmers' goods now make the farmer So the world moves on at a great pace. 
smile and the townsman frown. The next | 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 



YOUNGSVILLE FOUNDERS AND BUSINESS MEN- 



What will the end be? 

I thought I had "Old Times in Oil- 
dom" finished when I wrote the last ar- 
ticle. But since that time I have thought 
of many things that ought to be said of 
Youngsville that would show the great 
changes that have taken place in this 
one little spot since I made my appear- 
ance on this earth. 

About 65 years ago Amasa Ransom 
owned and occupied a farm one mile 
from Youngsville. He also owned a saw- 
mill at Garland. Most all owners of 
sawmills were farmers also at that time. 
Tliey raised the hay and oats on their 
farms that kept their teams in good or- 
der while hauling the logs to the mills. 
The farm and mill ran in connection, a 
kind of "a wheel within a wheel." When 
a farmer would get a little money put 
away in a stocking — no banks then — he 
would build a sawmill. It did not cost 
as much to build a mill in those days as 
it does now. The farmer and his boys 
would cut down big trees and make a 
dam, hew out some square timber and 
make a frame building, put in a little 
machinery, consisting of a water wheel, 
wooden frame or sasli for one saw, set 
in an upright position, the only saw of 
any kind in the mill, make a wooden car- 
riage, and that was about all there was 
to it. The owner and his farm help 
would do all the work exce;)t a few days' 
work bj' a millwright, who made the 
water wheel and bossed the hanging of 
the saw in the sash and looked after 
the "scientific" part of tlie business. A 
good millwriglit stood as liigli in tlie es- 
timation of tlie community in general as 
Edison or Marconi does now. He was 
paid the magnificent sum of from $2 to 
$3 a day. It required but a few hun- 
dred dollars to put a sawmill in running 
sli^pe. But it took a great deal of hard 
work to get the money back with the 
best of pine lumber bringing $4 per 
thousand feet, or about one-eightli part 
of the present price at Pittsburg. Per- 
haps it brought half that amount at the 
mill. 

Our family lived near Garland. Mr. 
Ransom, having bouglit the mill and 



lands belonging at Tiona, Warren coun- 
ty. Pa., afterwards known as the "Joe" 
Hill property, and still later owned by 
Clapp, Stone & Co., with 7,000 acres of 
oil lands, came to Garland and per- 
suaded my father to rent his farm near 
Youngsville, as he wanted to remove to 
his newly-acquired property. My father 
did not need much coaxing to induce hiin 
to leave his log house in the woods and 
come to the "big city" of Youngsville, 
with one store and two blacksmith 
shops, one tavern and one church and 
two little wooden schoolhouses, one on 
each side of tlie creek, and perhaps some 
other "big places of business" that have 
escaped my memory. The first work 
that I did after being settled on our 
newly rented farm was to yoke up the 
oxen, "Buck and Bright," and join a pro- 
cession of four yoke of oxen and their 
drivers and travel one mile and a half 
up Matthews run to the farm now owned 
and occupied by O. P. Brown, and hitch 
to one of the largest hickory trees ever 
seen in tliis section. In a few hours 
that mammoth tree was lying on the 
bank of the Brokenstraw creek, in the 
village of Youngsville. In a day or two 
the best Democratic carpenters in 
Youngsville had that big tree peeled and 
shaped into one of the largest "James 
K. Polk" liberty poles in Western Penn- 
sylvania. And in a few days more a 
great gathering of Democrats took place 
and with rope and tackle, "a few jugs 
of that which gave them courage," and 
spread-eagle oratory and fuss enough to 
launch a war vessel, and Colonel Will- 
iam S. Roney for boss, the tallest and 
straightest Democratic hickory pole, with 
the largest flag waving from its tip-top, 
in Warren county, honored the Democrats 
of Youngsville. My father was always 
an ardent Democrat. He raised three 
sons up to his doctrine, but only one re- 
mains true to his father's teaching. That 
one still lives on the old homestead 
where the big "Polk and Dallas" hickory 
pole was cut. Two of his sons have for 
many years voted the Prohibition tick- 
et. 

At the time I made my debut into 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



65 



Youngsville society by driving our oxen 
on the occasion mentioned above, 12 
young- men, the cream of the town, had 
a society organized named "Tlie Youngs- 
ville Glee club." They had a wagon box 
with this name on the outside in large 
letters. About once a month they would 
hitch two spans of horses to a wagon and 
put that box on it, each taking his best 
girl with him, making 25, counting the 
driver, and go to some outlying village, 
take supper — it would be dinner now — 
and have a good time in general. One 
of their number, in the course of time, 
went west to "grow up with the coun- 
try," and left a Vacancy. At their next 
meeting the writer of this was duly 
elected a member to fill the vacancy, the 
ox-driver, a mile out In the country, the 
only out-of-town boy in the club. I felt 
somewhat lonely, but happy. To think 
that of the many out-of-town boys I was 
the chosen one was enough to give me 
the "Big Head." But I put on the 
brakes and my head kept its normal 
size. And not to be egotistical, I tried 
not to dishonor the club and stuck to it 
until the old wagon box rotted away and 
is now only a memory. 

I am going to speak of a few of the 
old settlers that made Youngsville what 
it was at that time. The first who come 
to mind are John Mead and William Sig- 
gins. Judge Siggins lived in Youngs- 
ville and owned a sawmill and a grist- 
mill, had a wife and 13 children. The 
Judge was a very tall man — over six feet 
— and his wife was a very short woman. 
Nine of the Judge's children were boys. 
There were no mowing machines and 
the hay was all cut with scythes. The 
Judge would march at the head of the 
line of sons and when they would reach 
the meadow the 10 would start in, the 
Judge leading, and how that timothy did 
come down at their bidding. When one 
or more are mowing in the same field 
they have to "keep stroke." Watching 
this one family of 10 taking the even 
swing altogether was a sight not seen 
every day, even in the day of no mowing 
machines. And tlien, in a field of ordi- 
nary length, when thej' came out at the 
end of the field, an acre of new mown 
hay was drying in tne sun. The old 
Judge was a character. Wlien he took 
hold of anything he generally "got 
there." At one time lie served as con- 
stable 12 years. Every year he was 
elected without much opposition until the 
twelfth year, when the people thought 
they would make a change and let some 
one else have a chance. But they elect- 
ed the Judge to the office of high con- 
stable, an office which at that time car- 
ried but little business with it. A high 
constable could only do a little borough 
business. The Judge surprised every- 
body by getting a special law passed by 
the legislature giving the high constable 



of Youngsville borough a legal right to 
do any kind of business that the regular 
constable could do. And that has been 
the law to this day. The Judge made 
an excellent constable under the old law 
and the business was nearly all put into 
his liands under the new law, and the 
income was as great as it was under the 
old law. The regular constable regard- 
ed it. as a good joke and took up another 
business. At SS years of an active, well 
spent life the Judge said good-bye to 
all earthly things and passed away. 

And now comes in the coincidence. 
John Mead's family was a veritable 
double of the William Siggins family. 
John Mead had a saw mill and gi-ist mill, 
a mile up Brokenstraw, and a family of 
1.3 children. He was as tall as Mr. Sig- 
gins, and. liis wife was as short as Mrs. 
Siggins. Seldom, if ever, could such a 
coincidence be found. The nearest to this 
case that lias come under my observa- 
tion is a Mr. Cross and a Mr. Morrison, 
living at Parthenia, six miles below 
Irvineton, on the Allegheny river. They 
were next door neighbors; only a school- 
house between them, and each had 13 
cliildren. 

Another of the pioneers in the Broken- 
straw valley was H. P. Kinnear. He -^vas 
born and reared in Youngsville, and as 
lie grew into manhood lie became a 
leader in the business of the town. 
Everything pertaining to good of the 
town he engineered to the best of his 
ability.. To tell all the benefit that 
Henry Kinnear was to this town would 
take more time than I have to spare. But 

I I mention a few of the things that he 
did to help make Youngsville a nice, 
i^ell-regulated little place to live in. It 
w-as by his movements that the little 

; village became a borough more than 50 
years ago. There was no other borough 
in Warren county except Warren. Now 
there are eight boroughs. He succeeded 
in organizing Youngsville lodge. No. 500, 
I. O. O. F., about 60 years ago, and was 
elected as representative to the grand 
lod.ge every year while he lived after the 
organization, 40 years. He, as burgess 
and councilman, brought about many 

I impro\-ements that will stand as monu- 

I nients to his love for Young:5ville for all 
time to come. One of the principal land- 
marks is the Odd Fellows cemetery. The 
cemetery overlooks the borough from a 
beautiful eminence about a mile away. 
This "City of the Dead" was the pride 
of his life until life ended for him about 
20 years ago. He gave of his time free- 

i ly in bringing about borough improve- 
ments of all kinds, one of which was 
to make a nearly level grade on all 

i streets and sidewalks. If a rise of ground 
appeared anywhere on the main streets 
it was plowed and scraped and carted 
away until the surface was smooth and 

I even. The same with the sidewalks. If 



66 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



a bump appeared it was soon leveled, 
and if a shade tree was an inch or two 
inside the six-foot limit it had to be 
shoved out to the proper place or taken 
av ay entirely. In getting this accom- 
plished Mr. Kinnear made many enemies, 
but he went his way unmoved by the 
grumbling of the tree owners and now 
when he and a majority of the grumblers 
have gone to their eternal homes about 
10 miles of shale brick sidewalks are 
laid on level foundation, the grading be- 
ing done years ago under the super- 
vision of this same H. P. Kinnear. I 
was not of the grumblers, but I was 
obliged to lower the ground at one end 
of my sidewalk and cut nearly half the 
roots off of some nice hard maple shade 
trees. And I am one of the inhabitants 
of the town who have been permitted by 
the Great Ruler of the Universe to live 
to see the time that I can walk about 10 
miles on the different streets on level 
brick walks and not stub a toe. But 1 
am not done with Mr. Kinnear yet. He 
at different times in his rather eventful 
life filled town offices, being sheriff, 
member of the state legislature and 
treasurer, chairman of committee on 
Grand hotel and superintendent of the 
grounds of Point Chautauqua. In fact 
he held all of these offices at one and 
the same time. And at the time of his 
death he was president of the Toungs- 
ville Savings bank. Hon. H. P. Kinnear 
has left his footprints in Youngsville 
for all time to come. The borough has 
the appearance of a park in certain 
places because of his work. 

Charles Whitney was another old-time 
citizen who did a great deal to make a 
beautiful place of Youngsville. He own- 
ed nearly half the land inside the bor- 
ough line, nearly all west of the Broken- 
straw creek. He owned a saw mill about 
two miles up the creek and was both a 
farmer and a lumberman. His big farm 
in Youngsville was covered with pine 
stumps. He bought a stump machine 
and summer after summer could be seen 
from break of day until dark working 
with his men, not bossing alone, but do- 
ing as much work as any of his hired 
men. Mr. Whitney raised four children. 
All are, however, dead now. His oldest 
son. Captain George Whitney, did his 
full share toward putting down the great 
Rebellion. He got up one company, took 
it to the front and turned it into Colonel 
Roy Stone's Bucktail regiment, then 
came back and raised another company 
and took it to the front. He stayed with 
this company until the war closed. 

Another citizen of this place is R. P. 
Davis, a sweet singer, born and reared 
in this town. He has been singing tenor 
in the Methodist Episcopal church for 
the last EC years. He has missed but 
few Sundays in this time and consider- 
ing special occasions would more than 



average twice. But calling it twice each 
Sunday, it would count 5,200 trips and 
about the same number of miles of trav- 
el. Counting three hymns to each ser- 
vice, this shows that he has sang 15,600 
hymns. He has, in addition to this, 
spent about two years' time in the 50 
years, in singing at funerals. He has 
done all this free of charge. In the 
above mentioned time he has worked a 
farm, has been sexton of the cemetery 
16 years, has been either burgess or 
councilman 14 years, and has been su- 
perintendent of the county farm here 
three years. All inside this inside 50 
years. Truly, Reuben has been on the 
move within the last half century. 

Alden Marsh was one of Youngsville's 
well wishers and workers for the town's 
advancement. He was a successful lum- 
berman and retired with a competency 
in middle life. He filled the office of 
county commissioner for three succes- 
sive terms with great ability. He was 
a leading Odd Fellow and the I. O. O. F. 
band turned out and played solemn 
dirges at his funeral. When he was in 
busmess and had plenty of money, and I 
was a young chap, just commencing bus- 
iness without money, all I had to do was 
to ask Mr. Marsh for a thousand dollars 
to use in buying and running lumber to 
Pittsburg and selling it, and it would be 
forthcoming. He never refused me, and 
this borrowing was repeated many 
times. When he died he left his prop- 
erty and cash in bank to his wife. He 
had no children and when his wife died 
the property and cash all went to Mrs. 
Marsh's relatives in Minnesota. No pro- 
vision was made for keeping his lot in 
the cemetery lawn-mowed and in proper 
order, but in these long years since Mrs. 
Marsh's death no weeds or briers have 
grown on the Marsh lot. For we cannot 
bear to see a tangle of weeds and briars 
growing on the grave of such a good old 
financial friend of the long ago. 

John McKinney was another of the 
moulders of Youngsville. He was one of 
the first born after the old Scotchman, 
Matthew Young, drove stakes and 
marked out the site for the town of 
Youngsville. He was the oldest of a 
family of seven boys and a girl. He, 
like every provident young man of near- 
ly a century ago, went into the lumber 
business, and accumulated a large quan- 
tity of land on the waters of the Broken- 
straw creek and its branches. Part of it 
cost him but a few cents per acre, which 
he bid off at tax sales, as "unseated 
lands." But the bulk of his land was 
bought privately. He paid the full 
value for it. But the full value was not 
a large amount at that time, when men 
were working hard cutting, piling up 
and burning nide pine timber to make 
room for very scant crops. Land that 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



67 



was groaning under the weight of the 
very finest pine timber that ever stood 
out of doors was sold at $1.50 per acre. 
I have bougnt, at tliat rate, of the 
Huidelcopers, rather than just talce 
it." It was "all the go" to cut just 
where one could find it, but I always 
felt a little safer cutting my own tim- 
ber than Huidekoper's. However, I 
don't feel like bragging because of my 
honesty. Tlie reader can just call it 
cowardice, and let it go at that. 

But to return to John McKinney. His 
pine-covered lands kept rising, rising 
and rising, and then how they did rise 
when Drake struck oil at Titusville! Mr. 
McKinney owned 100 acres near Hosmer 
run, a mile above Garland. When the.v 
drilled with a springpole he got a smell 
of oil and sold it for $20,000. This hun- 
dred acres was bid in at a tax sale for a 
few cents an acre. Great is oil. At that 
time Mr. McKinney could walk from 
Youngsville to Irvineton — three miles — 
on his own land, by zigzagging to the 
sidehill at a couple of places. He sold 
several hundred acres of his land hold- 
ings at oil prices. When Mr. McKinney 
was transacting this business mentioned 
above his two nephews, John L. and 
"Curt" McKinney, two miles from 
Youngsville were helping their father, 
James McKinney, run a little sawmill, 
propelled by an old-fashioned wooden 
water wheel. But when their uncle John 
died several years later, worth nearly a 
quarter of a million dollars, these two 
boys were beginning to lay the founda- 
tion for their fortunes of millions of dol- 
lars. 

John McKinney was a man who loved 
to help those who tried to help them- 
selves. A case in proof of this: When 
I was emerging from boyhood to manhood 
I borrowed $150 of him to pay the Hui- 
dekopers for 100 acres of pine timber 
land. Two years later I called with 
money and interest to pay back the bor- 
rowed money. When I spoke of interest 



his answer was this: "I don't charge 
interest to young men who are trying to 
do something for themselves." He would 
not and did not take a dollar of interest, 
although I expected to pay it and came 
prepared for it. John McKinney was a 
business man all his lifetime of about 80 
years. He never bothered himself about 
office, with the exception of one term of 
three years as sheriff of Warren county, 
which the voters forced upon him. When 
he died he was the richest man on the 
Brokenstraw creek, from its mouth to 
the headwaters in the state of New York. 
His oldest son, Arthur McKinney, now 
lives in this place and has done much to 
test the territory between Youngsville 
and Irvineton for oil and gas. He is 
more encouraged at the present time than 
ever before; has faith that we have a 
paying oil field between Youngsville and 
Irvineton. The big flood of 1892 swept 
everything before it, and business had 
not been resumed until recently. As one 
well had put 150 barrels into a 250-barrel 
tank before the flood and oil, tank and 
all were swept down the Brokenstraw 
and the well has not been touched since, 
Mr. McKinney has faith enough to clean 
out that well and try again. 

Phillip Mead, Esq., was one of the sub- 
stantial residents for 50 years. He held 
the office of justice of the peace for 25 
years without a break. He was one of 
the leading merchants of this place for 
40 years. And when it came to church 
matters, he was an authority. No ser- 
vice was complete without his presence. 
He was always to be found at the 
Thursday evening prayer meeting at the 
M. E. church, as well as all Sunday ser- 
vices. He leaves a son, W. J. Mead, who 
keeps up his father's reputation for bus- 
iness. He runs the leading hardware 
store of the town, and a daughter, Cal- 
lie Mead, now holds the position of as- 
sistant cashier in the First National 
bank of Youngsville. 



68 



OLD TIMES IN 01 LOOM. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

NEW TIMES IN OILDOM. 



In a recent article I spoke of the pio- 
neers who liave made Youngsville what 
it is. Now I am going to write something 
which will sound more like "New Times 
in Oildom.'' Here goes: Sixteen years ago 
Youngsville was like a majority of tlie 
small towns of the country, nearly at 
a standstill. Although the location was 
far ahead of any town of its size in 
Warren county, being situated in a beau- 
tiful valley, averaging a mile wide, ten 
miles long, underlaid with gravel, where 
an iron pipe can be driven down 30 or 
40 feet in a few hours, and the very 
best of pure, cold, soft water obtained, 
its growth was slow. It lacked manu- 
factories. There was considerable money, 
owned by people who were very conser- 
vative. They preferred to keep their 
money in the bankn, at small interest, 
to risking it in any kind of speculative 
business. Money makes a poor sliowing 
in that way. In fact no showing at 
all. That was about the condition of af- 
fairs at Youngsville when W. P. Nut- 
ting, a young oil operator who had for- 
merly lived in Youngsville, but who for 
several years had been a very much 
alive Clarendon oil operator — came to his 
former home town, and started a bank. 
Then "Charley" Kay came from Stilson 
Hill, with a little money but with lots 
of business energy, and went into the 
steam sawmill business. From that 
business he entered the steam grist mill 
business, with John Sheldon, another 
Stilson Hill man. as a partner. The big 
flood of 1893 carried the mill off. leav- 
ing nothing hnX. a big hole in the ground. 
The engine was found nearly a quarter 
of a mile down the cieek, almost hidden 
by gravel and stones. That ended the 
mill business for "Charlie," but he had 
an appetite for business that could not 
be quenched by the loss of one mill, and 
a few weeks after the flood found him, 
together with Peter Turner and Amil 
Segadahl, starting up a furniture fac- 
tory in a building reconstructed from a 
private house. One addition after 
another was put to this small beginning, 
until a large and rather commodious 
furniture factory reared its proud head 
in the heretofore quiet Youngsville. 
Then, when "everything was lovely and 
the goose hung high," one quiet evening 
the Are bell rang, and Youngsville's 
pride was soon a heap of smouldering 
ruins. And Youngsville lay all summer 
"in sackcloth and ashes." But C. H. 
Kay, superintendent, and his always to 
be depended upon secretary and treas- 



urer, M. D. Whitney, were not covered 
with ashes. They were planning the 
building of a new factory of triple the 
capacity, and Ijuilt in a much more con- 
venient place than ihe old one. And the 
result is a $250,0.00 factory, which has 
paid for itself, and is now bringing to 
its stockholders enormous dividends. 
But a word of explanation is necessary 
in this connection. Only $15,000 stock 
was sold at the beginning. It now pays 
dividends on a $2.50,000 plant '. No stock 
is for sale in tliis institution. And this 
is not all. Both Kay and Whitney are 
interested in nearly all the improve- 
ments of the town. This large factory, 
employing 150 men, is not all. Both the 
gentlemen named ^bove have done good 
work for the town, both in erecting of 
new buildings and in all things per- 
taining to the advancement of Youngs- 
ville. Besides the individual efforts of 
these two gentlemen, their example has 
been far-reaching. . Two years ago 
another furniture factory was built, 
with a capacity for 200 workmen. The 
main instigators of this factory were 
Amil Segadahl and E. Swanson — Sega- 
dahl being superintendent. Then the 
Gern Mirror Works, of Jamestown, N. 
Y., came and put up a plant as a result 
of the influence exerted by these two 
furniture factories. This shows that in 
the business line one thin.g follows 
another. And in building for private 
families A. F. Swanson takes the lead. 
This man is an enigma. About 20 years 
ago lie opened a little grocery store 
with about $400. To-day he owns a half 
dozen stores, dwelling houses sheltering 
20 families, owns a hotel, the Youngs- 
ville house, owns considerable stock in 
both furniture factories, in the Gem 
Mirror works, in the First National 
bank, of which he is a director, also the 
Forest Manufacturing Company. He 
owns an opera liouse, owns stock in the 
Standard Shale Brick plant, and other 
properties "too numerous to mention." 
Mr. Swanson has not made any sensa- 
tional strikes in the way of speculation. 
He has conducted a store all these 
years, and has quietly accumulatea 
somewhere in the neighborhood of $100.- 
000. E. C. Swanson, brother of A. F. 
Swanson. has also done his full shar' 
of helping Youn.gsville. 

C. A. Hazzard is another man who be- 
lieves in making homes for new-comers. 
For several years he erected two first 
class tenement houses each year. A. H. 
Peterson is another gentleman who has 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



69 



built a nice row of brick houses along 
West Main street. Mr. Peterson is the 
president of the Gem Mirror plant and 
is one of the foremost capitalists of our 
town. He owns stock in nearly all the 
industrial plants in the place. E. A. Mc- 
Dowell, superintendent and secretary of 
the Forest Gas Company, is another of 
our foremost business upbuilders of 
Youngsville, assisted by his three sons, 
one of whom, Forest, has gone west, "to 
grow up with the country." Floyd is 
one of "Uncle Sam's" mail route agents, 
and Fred is cashier of the First National 
Bank of Youngsville. Charles Newgreen 
is another man who has been active in 
the work of helping to double the popu- 
lation of the town in the last five 
years. 

Hon. J. B. White, a former resident of 
Youngsville, but now a resident of Kan- 
sas City in the winter, and Chautauqua 
lake in the summer, has done his share 
in the educational line. Three years ago 
he built a High school building costing 
$25,000 in honor of his son, Fi-ank. In 
the same year the Currie Memorial In- 
dustrial school building was erected. J. 
T. Currie, a wealthy resident, died about 
19 years ago, leaving money on interest 
for the purpose of putting up a building 
where the boys can learn to do carpen- 
ter work, iron work — work at other 
trades — thereby educating the hands as 
well as the head; a place where the 
girls can also learn the art of cooking 
and sewing. At the same time the old 
four-story wooden school building was 
veneered with No. 1 standard shale 
brick and overhauled generally. Now 
we have a row of three brick school 
buildings, fronting on College street, 
with a background of three acres for a 
playground for the children. I have 
traveled a great deal in New York state, 
Pennsylvania, Ohio West Virginia and 
Canada, and I have never seen a town ot 
2,000 inhabitants have as many nice 
school buildings as Youngsville has. 
And we have the living J. B. White and 
the dead J. T. Currie to thank for two 
of the finest of the buildings. Both of 
these magnificent gifts were turned 
over to the Youngsville school board as 
free gifts. 

C. S. Mead, the leading dry goods mer- 
chant of this place, has also been one of 
our town builders. He owns the old H. P. 
Kinnear farm, which is situated near 
the very center of the borough, and has 
there a little village of his own. 

Among the newcomers is Robert 
Slater, a man who has made a great 
deal of money along the Allegheny river 



at the lumber business. He is a good 
citizen to have lying around loose. He 
takes stock in all manufactories that 
are being built. 

This is an answer to the question 
often asked, "What makes Youngsville 
grow so fast?" It is the enterprising 
monied men. And let me add that the 
town is often helped by the enterprising 
and "monied ladies." Mrs. Laura Jackson 
and Mrs. Frank Kay built two of the 
finest of the many brick houses erected 
last year. Mrs. McCormick, Miss Callle 
Mead and other ladies own nice brick 
houses. Oh, yes, the ladies are doing 
their full share of the work of making 
Youngsville what it is to-day; the only 
town of its size that I know of which 
has laid about ten miles of shale brick 
sidewalk within the last fiA e years, and 
doubled its population in the same 
length of time, except of course towns 
that have struck oil or gas, or opened 
coal mines. 

Another wb.o must not be left out 
among the helpers in Youngsville, is 
H. C. Preston, who has been the su- 
perintendent of the Rouse hospital farm 
here in Youngsville for the last 12 years. 

John A. Day, a man who was born in 
Youngsville, about 50 years ago, is 
counted among one of the most enter- 
prising citizens of the borough. He, 
single-handed and alone, promoted the 
Youngsville & Sugar Grove trolley road. 
He brought C. H. Smith, G. W. Wood, 
Mr. Gibson, Mr. Baily and other monied 
men of Sheffield and William Culbert- 
son. of Girard, the wealthiest man in 
Brie county. Pa., into the company which 
made it a success from the start. The 
roadbed is cut and filled the whole nine 
miles, making a road for both passengers 
and freight. The road will soon be ex- 
tended from Sugar Grove to Chautau- 
qua, a distance of about 16 miles, and 
from Youngsville to Warren, a distance 
of nine mile?. Then it will be one of 
the best paying properties of the kind 
in the country. No roads, either steam 
or electric, parallel it from Youngsville 
to Chautauqua. It has a splendid farm- 
ing country all to itself. Mr. Day has 
not let this monopolize his mind entire- 
ly. Just to fill in the time while he has 
been building the trolley road on his 
own hook he has built telephone lines 
nearly all over Warren county. And his 
onlv son, Archie, "is a chip 'of the old 
block." Archie has stuck up his poles 
and strung his wires and does the "hello" 
business for the wealthy and enterpris- 
ing town of Sheffield, 22 miles east of 
Youngsville. 



70 



OLD TIMES I N OILDOM. 



CHAPTER XXXV. 



'DUNC" KARNS AND 'TOM" KING. 



Noticing the announcement cTf tiie ' 
death of S. D. Karns brings very 
forcibly to my mind once again ' 
"Old Times in Oildom" in Par- 
ker City. I owned a lumber yard \ 
in that noted city at its inception, j 
"Dunk, as he was called by everybody, \ 
lived in his oil country house, next door ] 
to my lumber office. He was a lively 
oil operator, and no mistake. All he ; 
had to do was to drill a hole in the 
ground to get a big gusher of five or 
ten hundred barrels a day. Oil was 
four dollars a barrel, and his income 
was simply immense. Everything he 
took hold of simply melted into great 
piles of money. He bought, or leased, 
the McClimens farm, one mile and a 
half south of Petrolia, and aside from 
the gusher oil wells, he made a nice lit- 
tle pile in lots, on which to build "Karns 
City." The writer of this bought ground 
for an opera house, a restaurant ana 
hotel, and a city office, where was lo- 
cated the lumber business and Western 
Union Telegraph office, and land on 
which the lumber yard was situated. 
All these pieces of land were situated in 
the western pai't of the town, and when 
the town burned, a cross street was all 
that saved my property. My chief loss 
v/as simply some ornamental cut glass 
In the "telegraphic" part of the build- 
ing, worth but a couple of hundred dol- 
lars. This would have been savfrd if 
the wild, noisy crowd of men had obeyed 
my instructions not to carry it out. but 
to let it take its chances, as there was a 
cross street between my building and 
the fire, and as the fire companies from 
Parker City. Petrolia and Millerstown 
each had a stream of water on tlio fire. 
I felt in but little danger. But they paid 
not the least attention to me. They 
were crazy, and tliey ruslied past me 
as I stood in the front door, and a half 
dozen grabbed the frame work and car- 
ried the whole business out and into the 
middle of the street, wliere they dumpei 
it into tlie mud, and the fire companies 
soon made mince meat of it. After that 
fire Karns City was partly rebuilt, but it 
never fully recovered from the damage. 
But is to-day far from being a toadstool 
town. It is a pretty little farming vil- 
lage, reinforced by many old time wells, 
and it will be a success as long as good 
producin.g farms abound in that region. 
But back to "Dune" Karns. He was 
"it" in everything pertaining to the 
business of Parker City and vicinity. 
Any kind of business that did not have 



Karns attached to one or the other end 
of the names of it was considered "small 
potatoes." It was "Parker & Karns 
City railroad," "Karns bank," "Karns 
bridge," "Karns City," "Karns pipe 
line." In fact he was tlie mainspring. 
"Dune" was not one of those business 
men who go around with a troubled look 
on his face. No, indeed! He scattered 
sunsliine every day. He mixed pleasure 
with business, and had a good time gen- 
erally. He was a young man, full of 
life and energ.v when his great piles of 
money fell upon him. The weight of 
his money did not crush him. He never 
put on money airs, and made himself 
disagreeable to the average man. He 
would play a game of billiards witli a 
respectable oil well worlcer witli as much 
enjoyment as he would Iiave playing- 
witli the owner of a thousand barrel 
well. I recollect one little mark of 
pride on his part, however. He bought 
a billiard cue. finished with silver trim- 
mings. Tlie biiiard man Ivept Mr. Karns' 
cue in a separate receptacle from the 
other sticks. Although tliis looked 
somewhat "uppish" "Dune" bought it for 
I what it was, a finely wrought plaything. 
I The first sign of opulence on "Dunk's" 
part was the building of a fine brick 
i mansion a few miles below Preeport, Pa. 
I He graded a lawn all around it, large 
i enougli for a common sized farm, with 
a nice setting of evergreens all over it. 
i This place was on tlie opposite side of 
j the Allegheny river from his boyhood 
' home — Karns eddy. But the old saying 
is, "It's a long lane that has no turning." 
; The lane turned with "Dunk," but turned 
I the wrong way. He was not the first to 
' dip in a little too deep, nor will he be 
I the last. The oil country is paved with 
' men who have made and lost money. 
The writer speaks from experience, he 
having earned a small fortune in two 
years and lost it in one. You see by 
ithis that you can go down hill twice as 
fast as you can go up. At a certain 
j time when the oil business was at its 
height, there were 30 lumber yards in 
the lower oil regions. These lumber 
' yards were all doing a good business, 
' when, lo and behold! oil dropped from 
I $3 a barrel to 50 cents a barrel. Then 
the lumbermen "got it in the neck." Oil 
operators by the score, who had been 
paying their lumber bills every 30 days, 
! went into bankruptcy. One little bit of 
an example is this: One operator, who 
had been one of my best customers, 
i failed for $1,500,000. Then where was 



OIL TIMES IN 01 LOOM. 



71 



my $900 lumber bill? This kind of thing 
was not uncommon. Out of this number, 
30 yards, only two came off unscathed — 
28 having found the oil country a slip- 
pery place to do business in. Money 
slipped into the dealer's docket easily, 
but it slipped out again much more 
easily and quickly than it came. You 
may ask 28 lumber yard owners if they 
do not agree with me. One of the sur- 
viving two is now dead, leaving but one 

itness in favor of the beauties of the 
lumber business in the "lower oil re- 
gions." 

The Parker City of to-day, In a busi- 
ness point of view, is not a shadow of 
its former self. I feel inclined to give 
one incident of many that could be given 
to show the strenuous way the Alle- 
gheny Valley railroad had of doing busi- 
ness. The railroad being on the oppo- 
site side of the river from Parker City, 
with only a wire cable to guide a ferry 
boat across the stream, made it anything 
but easy to do business in the new and 
hustling town. Everything was "hurlj- 
burly." The short side track at the "Phil- 
lips House" could not hold half the cars 
sent to the new oil town, and the cars 
would be "switched" off at Foxburg, 
three miles above, or at Bear Creek, one 
mile below, and they would lie there un- 
til a small opening on the switch at the 
Phillips house could make room for one 
or two cars. Then the cars destined for 
Parker City would be "switched in." 
One day the freight train men put two 
carloads of lumber for my yard, lumber 
needed at once for oil well purposes, on 
the Bear Creek end of the side track. 
No room was made for cars for nearly 
a week, and no team could get near the 
cars to unload the lumber. As "gondolas" 
were in great demand about that time 
the railroad could not well spare its 
cars a week at a time lying idle on a 
side track. Consequently "Tom" King, 
assistant superintendent of the road, 
came up from Pittsburg and ordered his 
track workers to pitch my lumber down 
the steep bank onto the gravelly stony 
beach. There it was, partly in the water 
and partly out of the ^- ater, before I 
was even aware of the "King's" decree. 
Well, my customers were in a great 
hurry for the lumber and I put 
my own team and a couple of other 
teams at work hauling that lumber near- 
ly a half mile up that river beach over 
gravel and rocks and up a steep bank. 
A team could haul but about one-quarter 
of a load at a trip, and it was fully $100 
damage to me considering the breakage 
and extra teaming, lost time and every- 
thing. I had not time to sue the rail- 
road company. "Tom" King had not time 
to lose with a lawsuit, and the most im- 
portant of all the reasons for not suing 
the railroad was that I had a free pass 
over the road from year to year, and If 



I had resented "Tom's mean action it 
would have, in all probability, had a 
bad effect on that pass. And as the pass 
covered the Allegheny Valley road and 
its brandies, and I v. as over the road 
very often, I figured that it would not 
take a great while to "deadhead" $100 
worth of transportation in my kind of 
business. So "Tom" King was not put in- 
to the sheriff's hands to answer for his 
un-hearu-of-way of doing unheard-of 
things. I hear that "Tom" King, with a 
big "K," is still railroading somewhere in 
the western country. If he takes such lib- 
erties with some of those cowboys as 
he did with me he would have to "excuse 
himself" at the point of one of their 
playthings, a revolver. But what is the 
use of being named King if you can't be 
a King? 

It was uphill and downhill busi- 
ness those days to run a lumber yard 
in the new Eldorado even when the 
hard-worked yard master could get a car 
on that little short side track at the 
Phillips house wnere wagons could reach 
it. It was no picnic to get the lumber 
to the yard on the other side of the 
river. When the teamster was lucky 
enough to get his team in 'hrough the 
cro^^ d of teams it required two men to 
load the wagon, one on the railroad car 
and another on the wagon. Then the 
brakes had to be put on good and hard 
to get down the steep river bank and on- 
to Fullerton & McGlaulen's chain ferry 
boat. Then upon reaching the Parker 
side of the river a steep bank had to be 
ascended before reaching the yard. It 
cost something to get lumber from that 
little crowded side track to the yard, 
the wages of two men and team and the 
tremendous ferry toll of Fullerton & Mc- 
Glaulen on small loads. And now I will 
give the other side for there were two 
sides to the business: I bought a raft of 
100.000 feet of boards from the Weston 
mills, three miles above Olean, N. Y., on 
Monday morning, paying $10 per thou- 
sand feet for it in the water. Saturday 
evening it was all gone at $19 per thou- 
sand feet. This was -^ ithout cost to me. 
The oil operators would drive their teams 
into the water beside the raft and load 
their wagons from the raft. I cleared 
$900 on that raft in one week without 
touching a board. Another $900 easy 
transaction took place a short time after 
the last mentioned. A bridge was built 
across the river and the contractor gave 
me the contract of furnishing the square 
hard maple timber to put under the bot- 
tom of the stone piers. I gave the con- 
tract to a Springcreek mill owner at his 
own price and cleared about $900 with- 
out touching a piece of the timber. This 
looks like making money easily. But the 
old saying is: "Come easy, go easy." As 
stated heretofore in these articles there 
is no trouble about the reader seeing 



72 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



where the "go easy" came in. All the , branches of business were in a state of 
old operators will remember the method, , chaos until the Standard Oil Company, 
if there was any method in it, of do- j through maivelous management, gradu- 
ing business. It was up and down and ; ally brought things in the oil country 
up and doXn again and again and all \ into understandable shape. 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 



WARREN'S BIG MEN. 



At this time there comes to my mind 
many of the old business men of 'W'ar- 
ren. Pa. There were among the 
members of the bar Judge 3. P. 
Johnson, Judge Rasselas Brown, Judge 
Glenn W. Schofield, Thomas Struth- 
ers, Judge L. D. Wetmore, Wil- 
liam Parmlee. J. D. James and Judge W. 
D. Brown. Of those named all are dead 
but the last named, who has good health 
and the prospect of enjoying the w^ll 
earned fruu* of his former efforts for 
many years, to come. Judge Johnson was 
noted for his stern visage and plain talk. 
During his long and successful legal life 
he never spoke but he said something in 
a manner to be plainly understood. Many 
were offended at his plain speaking, but 
those who knew him best knew well that 
underlying his stern outward appearance 
was a warm and tender heart. The 
writer had business relations with him 
and nevtr was more kindly treated. The 
last interview was just before the open- 
ing of the World's Fair at Chicago. I 
found him in the consulting room of 
Thomas Struther's law office, writing 
that philanthropist's last will and testa- 
ment. It was a somewhat sad sight to 
meet those two substantial old lawyers 
trembling on the very edge of eternity, 
making a disposition of their very large 
inheritance. The Judge dropped the will 
writing and accompanied me to the court 
house. On the way he, the Judge, in- 
formed me that he had been at Chicago 
to see the "White City." He said he was 
well paid for his trip. Said he, "I am 
S4 years of age, but I am in good health 
and active for a man of my years. I can 
walk nearly as nimble as ever." He then 
proceeded to give me an example of his 
nimbleness. "And," he said, "I hope 
to live long enough to make the 
second visit to the World's Fair, after 
those buildings are filled with the best 
products of the world." But, alas, for 
the uncertainty of all things mortal. The 
Judge was seized with sickness and died 
before those buildings were filled. These 
old lawyers were an honor to Warren. 
At the time of which I write Warren and 
Erie counties were one congressional dis- 



trict. Warren furnished the member of 
congress for both counties for many 
year?, Erie being left out of the race. 
The large county and city of Erie seemed 
to be content to help elect Warren coun- 
ty men to represent them on the floor of 
congress. G. W. Schofield was elected and 
re-elected several terms. Then Colonel 
L. F. Watson followed him a couple of 
terms, and when Erie did put forward a 
man and elect him, Mr. Schofield was 
chosen a congressman-at-large. The con- 
gressman elected in Erie was C. B. Cur- 
tis, a former lawyer of Warren. Then 
came a genuine Erie county man, Mr. 
Brainard. All those named above were 
Republicans, but then a Democrat — Erie's 
pride — walked over the 4,000 Republican 
majority a couple of times, and repre- 
resented his — the "wildcat district" — 
with much credit to himself and his con- 
stituents. Colonel Scott was as smart as 
he was rich. He was an honor to the 
Democratic party, but the old saying is 
"the good die young," and years ago 
Erie's lamented citizen, W. L. Scott, 
passed away. 

But let us return to Warren. 
All the old set of lawyers wer* full of 
legal lore and an honor to the legal pro- 
fession. One of the recent deaths of the 
Warren judges was that of Hon. L. D. 
Wetmore. His 10 years on the bench as 
president judge was a pleasant term for 
both himself and the people. He did not 
seem to grow old under the pressure of 
that responsible office, but rather ap- 
peared happy, but he, too, had to obey 
the call of the Great Judge of the 
World. 

Another of the president judges was 
"Charlie Noyes, as he was familiarly 
called by his innumerable friends. Al- 
though a Democrat, in a strong Republi- 
can county, he was elected to the high 
office of president judge by a good ma- 
jority. Judge Noyes was a man of many 
parts. He was connected with all good 
societies and everything tending to 
make Warren one of the finest and best 
towns of its size in the country. When 
he died the newspapers were filled with 
eulog.es. He was Indeed missed. He 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



73 



was a young man at the time of his 
death, but was old in the knowledge of 
the laws of this country. 

I will now make mention of the 
younger and at present active lawyers 
at the Warren county bar: These are D. 
I. Ball, D. U. Aired, Hon. O. C. Allen 
and his son, Samuel Bordwell, W. 
W. Wilber, W. M. Lindsey, who 
has just completed a 10-year term as 
president judge with honor to himself 
and his constituents, and Charles W. 
Stone and son Ralph. C. W. Stone has 
filled about all the offices worth having 
in the state of Pennsylvania. From prin- 
cipal of the Warren schools he has 
passed through the state assembly, state 
senate, lieutenant governor and three or 
four terms of congress. Mr. Stone stood 
second best of the hundreds of congress- 
men at v'^ashington. When "Tom" B. 
Keid, the then speaker of the house, 
was absent for a week at a time he 
chose the Hon. Charles W. Stone to take 
his place. 

But let me now tell of the old, old 
lumbermen. There were Orris Hall, "Joe" 
Hall, Chapin Hall and Judge Hall, Boon 
Mead, Guy Irvine, A. H. Ludlow, S. H. 
and S. V. Davis, James Eddy, "Zack" 
Eddy, Judge L. D. Wetmore, Judge Sid- 
ney Wetmore, Hon. L. F. Watson, An- 
drew Hertzel and a host of others, who 
made fortunes in the lumber business, 
when nearly the whole county and the 
adjoining county of Forest were literal- 
ly green with as fine pine trees as were 
ever found anywhere. Many of the old 
settlers of M^^arren made their fortunes 
by "bidding off" unseated wild land. I'll 
take Colonel Watson as an example. He 
came to Warren from Titusville when a 
mere boy, with 25 cents in his pocket, 
but full of energy, business and in- 
tegrity. He commenced work in a store 
on a very small salary, but he, unlike 
many young men, saved his money. 
"When the day came for the selling of 
unseated lands — unseated lands means 
that many owners of wild land thought 
it not worth while to pay their taxes in 
the wilderness of Forest and Warren 
counties, and let the assessors place 
them on the unseated list — young Wat- 
son was possessed of a keen vision and 
he could look into the future and use 
good common sense. He expected and 
knew that this country would grow and 
this isolated timber would come into 
the market sometime in the future. Con- 
sequently he bought large lots of this 
wild land. It cost but a few cents an 
acre and a small amount of his savings 
would buy large tracts of land. 

I'll give a conversation that I had with 
Mr. Watson a few years ago in the di- 
rectors' room of the Warren Savings 
bank. I was seated in an easy chair 
when Mr. Watson entered the room. 
After a cordial shake of my hand, and 



a warm hand was always extended to 
his friends by that genial gentleman, he 
said: "I have just got back from quite 
an extended trip over in Forest county. 
Yesterday I saw for the first time a 
thousand acre lot that I bought at a tax 
sale 50 years ago. I paid a few cents an 
acre for it. It is completely covered with 
pine all over, except about 20 acres in 
one corner, and that 20 acres is covered 
with the best of hemlock timber. I had 
heard that it was a good pine lot, but 
there are about 8,000,000 feet more pine 
than I expected." I made this remark: 
"The surplus, or the timber that you did 
not know that you owned, is worth more 
than your whole bank here." 

Since the interview above mentioned 
all timber has raised more than one-half 
in price. Mr. Watson became several 
times a millionaire. This certain piece 
was one of many pieces of his early pur- 
chases of wild lands at unseated sales 
on the court house steps. Many other 
old settlers, the late Hon. L. D. Wet- 
more among the number, became im- 
mensely wealthy by the same fair meth- 
ods. And no wonder that Warren Is one 
of the wealthiest cities of its size to be 
found anywhere. 

The late Hon. Henry Brace helped Mr. 
Watson with some of his land sales and 
afterwards went to California and be- 
came wealthy himself in timber and 
other transactions. He was buried in the 
Odd Fellow s cemetery at Youngsville 
only a short time ago. Mr. Brace was 
by Mr. Watson's side when he (Watson) 
dropped dead in Washington, D. C. and 
like a coincidence death came to Mr. Brace 
at his California home instantaneously. 
All of the above named old-time lumber- 
men have sent their last rafts down the 
Allegheny, except the last named, An- 
drew Hertzel, and it is to be hoped that 
he will live to be 100 years old to super- 
intend the beautiful Odd Fellows ceme- 
tery at Warren as he has managed it for 
the last 40 years without one dollar of 
cost to the society. Can Mr. Hertzel's 
equal in this respect be found In this or 
any other country? Nearly every day 
finds him driving "over the river" to the 
beautiful city of the dead, where he 
keeps his eyes on all the workmen and 
gives them "friendly instructions. There 
is only one Andrew Hertzel. Two other 
gentlemen, S. V. and S. H. Davis, twin 
brothers, were helpers of Mr. Hertzel In 
his laudable work while they were busy 
citizens of Warren. Their twlnship has 
ended here on this earth and has com- 
menced again in the unknown country 
beyond. A word about these two that 
were nearly always seen together here 
while alive on this earth will not be 
ami's: They were both Democrats liv- 
ing in a county with 1,500 Republican 
maioritv. S. V. received the Democratic 
nomination for sheriff of Warren county 



74 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



and was elected over his Republican op- 
ponent by a majority of 85. When S. V.'s 
time expired his twin brother, S. H. 
Davis, repeated the performance of his 
twin brother, S. V. Davis, the only dif- 
ference being- that the former had a 
trifle more of a majority than the lat- 
ter named. Those three workers for the 
cemetery were also three good work- 
ers in the I. O. O. F. lodge at Warren 
which controls the cemetery. The two 
last named are missed in the councils of 
both the lodge and cemetery. 

Away back, 60 years ago, Guy Irvine 
was the king lumberman of the Alle- 
gheny river. He owned many saw mills, 
all propelled by water, and it required 
many mills those days of single sash, 
upright saws, to manufacture his dozens 
of "Allegheny fleets." On the spring 
freshet Mr. Irvine would float to Pitts- 
burg fleet after fleet, and tie them up 
to both shores of the river for miles 
above the city. He would pay off his 
army of "hands," leaving one to each 
raft, to keep it afloat as the water would 
recede. After each man had received 
his nine to twelve dollars, about the 
amount paid in those early days for a 
down the river trip. Mr. Irvine would 
take them to the Red Lion hotel, on the 
Pittsburg side of the river, or to "Old 
Tom Gardner's hotel, on the Allegheny 
side of the river, and treat them to a 
"cityfied meal." And let me say right 
here that no landlord ever got rich from 
those men's meals. After a week on the 
raft, subsisting on bread, meat and pota- 
toes, prepared by some man who wa» 
taking his first lessons in cooking, those 
hungry up-tlie-river men got away with 
all the apple butter, apple sauce, stewed 
peaches, stewed cherries, etc., that came 
before them. No newfangled side dishes 
were used at those eirly-day taverns. 
The victuals were heaped up on single 
plates, and each fel'ow pitched in and 
helped himself. If the "tavern keeper- 
got full pay for the raw material of one 
of those meals — the cooking thrown in — 
he came off lucky. When those Pennsylva- 
nians and York State Yankees had more 
than satisfied "the inner man," a large 
majority of them 'ndulged in something 
stronger than rivtr water, and then 
would coiTimence the footsore march 
toward their homes up the Allegheny. 

Those raftsmen were a lively set, both 
floating southward on an easy-going 



raft or trudging northward over hard, 
stony roads. The denizens of the scat- 
tered farms along the way generally let 
those raftsmen run things in their own 
way. And let it be said to the credit of 
those pioneer raftsmen, whom I have ac- 
companied many times, that their wild 
deeds were few and far between. 

But let me return once again to Guy 
Irvine. He, with all his riches, had not 
the enjoyment of his northern home 
only a small part of the summer months. 
He could not, as now, slip up home in a 
day or in a night and visit his family 
and back again in the same length of 
time, but he had to stay away a long 
time to sell and deliver his vast amount 
of lumber. And when he did get away, 
some times nearing the fall of the year, 
he would come home on horseback, 
loaded down with money. And he was 
bold enough to ride along through farms 
and woodland without a companion. One 
of the great wonders is that no high- 
wayman ever "interviewed" him. 

A story was rife at one time that one 
robber stationed himself in a dense piece 
of woods, with a gun, and awaited the 
passing of Mr. Irvine. But in vain, as 
Mr. Irvine had happened to take another 
route and thereby spoiled the robber's 
fun. 

Let us look at the great strides in 
the manner of doing business now, com- 
pared with 60 or 70 years ago. Instead 
of running the risk of being robbed, if 
Mr. Irvine was selling lumber now at 
Pittsburg, he would only have to drop 
his pile of money into a Pittsburg bank, 
take a certificate of deposit and drop It 
into a Warren bank when he got home, 
ask for a blank check book, and draw 
his money at his pleasure. And instead 
of that tiresome ride on horseback, he 
could step into a Pullman car and sleep 
until he reached his home. 

I would like to speak of more of the 
old time business men of Warren, but to 
do the beautiful inland town full jus- 
tice I would have to write a whole book. 
I can, with my mind's eye, look back 
and see Judges Galbraith, Vincent, John- 
son, Brown, Noyes, Lindsey and Wet- 
more. The reader, who was acquainted 
with those legal lights, will see that five 
out of the seven have presided at their 
last suit. Judge Vincent having only re- 
cently passed away. 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



75 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

WEST VIRGINIA EXPERIENCES. 



I think a few words about West Vir- 
ginia will be interesting. The writer of 
this spent the largest part of two years 
in the "Mountain State," organizing in- 
surance lodges. It was easy work to get a 
list of names of men and women and or- 
ganize a lodge, but when it came to paying 
dues and assessments, in some of the 20 
towns where I organized they were "not 
in it." I organized five lodges in Wheel- 
ing, the largest city in West Virginia. 
The members were always on hand at 
the meetings of the order, but when it 
came to paying their assessments and 
keeping their protection safe, they were 
not as good as the Pennsylvania people. 
In the way' of entertainments they were 
the bt St in the world. I made an ap- 
pointment with 10 lodges for a visit 
from the supreme president of the order. 
I notified each lodge of the time of his 
appearance. The meetings were for all 
members of the order and non-members. 
Well, those 10 meetings were 10 big pic- 
nics. They had entertainments galore. 
We had brass bands, mandolin clubs, 
quartets, duets, solos, recitations, ora- : 
tory. and everything that would add to 
the entertainment of a crowd. At Wheel- 
ing the entertainment was far in ad- ! 
vance of anything ever witnessed before, j 
or .since, by such a "jiner" as I, and I 
belong to nine different secret societies, i 
I'll not try to describe this entertain- 
ment, but I'll give a few pointers that 
will give the readers a chance to guess | 
at the magnificence of the performance. | 
The Grand opera house was the place of i 
meeting. The orchestra belonging to the ! 
building made splendid music. The best 
performers of the city gave their best 
efforts on all parts of the varied pro- j 
gram. The members of the order were I 
all dressed up to their special parts in 
the program at great cost to themselves. 
In fact, this could hardly be called an 
amateur performance. The performers 
— many of them — were professionals. 
This is one of the "unguessable" things. 
To think of men and women attending 
so faithfully to the frivolous parts at 
great cost and neglecting the important 
parts at light cost. 

Let me make a little correction. 
I said I had organized five lodges 
at Wheeling One was at Benwood 
and another at McMechen, but all 
were on the trolley lines. Of the 20 
lodges organized in West Virginia, they 
were nearly all in oil towns. Many, in 
fact a majority of my members, w'ere 



Pennsylvania oil men and women. The 
inhabitants of West Virginia are large- 
ly made up of Pennsylvania and Ohio 
neople. The Pennsylvania people are a 
little more appreciated than the Ohio 
people. Senator Stephen B. Elkins in- 
formed me, in the town named after 
him, that the Pennsylvania people took 
much more kindly to West Virginia than 
the Ohio people. The former are accus- 
tomed to a mountainous country and the 
latter to a level country. The Senator 
says it makes more difference than one 
would suppose at first thought. 

There is but one difference between 
the two states of Pennsylvania and West 
Vir,gini.T.. The sidehills are very much 
more precipitous in West Virginia than 
in Pennsylvania. When I first saw 
Wheeling it was a black little village, 
not much thought of by the raftsmen 
who rode lazily past it from the Penn- 
sylvania and 'York state lumber woods. 
Black coal smoke rose in several places 
as a nest pgg to Wheeling's future great- 
ness in the iron business of the country. 
Parkersburg was the next largest town 
on the Virginia side of the Ohio river — 
it was old Virginia at that time, as no 
division had been made. Parkersburg 
was a little huddle of old-fashioned 
houses. Just make the comparison now, 
and then. Now it is a city of nearly 
20,000 inhabitants. All the recent build- 
ings are up to date — built in the latest 
fashion. Oil has been largely instru- 
mental in making Parkersburg what it 
is to-day. Many of the inhabitants of 
the city came there full-fiedged oil op- 
erators, as they generally came from the 
Pennsylvania oil fields up the river. I 
spent four months within the confines 
of the old-time city and found a very 
social and intelligent lot of citizens, f 
for the first time since railroads were 
built, did not ride one rod in a railroad 
coach in four months. I organized a 
lodge of over 200 members before i Irift 
the town, and, unlike Wheeling, all ti.e 
insured members paid their assessments 
promptly each month. It was the best 
lodge of the 475 that I have organized 
within the last 32 years. 

I stopped at the Palace hotel tliat 
winter, and one peculiarity of the 
situation was that nearly all the 
young couples who came across the 
river from the state of Ohio to 
be joined in wedlock put up at the 
Palace hotel. The proprietor of this ho- 
tel had a preacher within easy call al- 



76 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



ways when one of these matrimonially 
inclined couples were ready to put on 
the yoke, and he had a standing witness 
in the person of your humble servant. I 
became regular in my attendance at wed- 
dings. The name of that landlord and 
my own decorated the marriage certifl- 
cates of dozens of new beginners as 
.sailors on the matrimonial sea. 

I found myself in a rather noted 
crowd at dinner one day. There were 
seven Hatfields and one Brown at the 
table. The McCoys stopped at another 
hotel. The relationship did not seem ex- 
actly cordial between the two families, 
although they were both making a visit 
to Parkerstaurg at the same time. A 
word of explanation is due here. A great 
land suit was on in the United States 
court, then being held at Parkersburg, 
and the Hatfields and McCoys were there 
as witnesses. But they demonstrated 
their good sense by not mixing up the 
names of the two families on the same 
hotel register. AVell, I had the honor of 
dining at a table full of Hatfields, with 
"Devil Anse" as one of the number. As 
they had been stopping at the "Palace" 
and boarding quietly, with people that 
were not murderers, for nearly a week, 
we all got used to them and it was no 
great feat to be one of eight who was 
not a Hatfield, at the same table at the 
same time. In fact, I became somewhat 
intimate with the family. I was as- 
sured that if I behaved myself I would 
be in no danger of bodily harm. I'll give 
a little conversation that one of the' 
crowd and I indulged in one evening 
while we sat quietly in the hotel ofllce. 
I said, "People up your way say that you 
fellows are not a very bad lot in gen- 
eral." He replied, "Oh, we are not the 
worst men in the world, but a little 
fiery." I told him that I "would write 
them up" for the Parkersburg Journal 
and that I would hand him a copy of the 
paper. He said, "All right. I would like 
to have it." The next day I went to the 
railroad depot and just as the train 
moved off toward the mountain home of 
the Hatfields I handed him a copy of the 
Journal. I will explain why I held the 
paper until the departure of the train. I 
thought that if he should take offense 
at any part of my remarks I would 
rather he would take offense on a train 
speeding away from Parkersburg than 
before he left the city. Now, to show 
plainly how we can be deceived in ap- 
pearances, one of those Hatfields had ev- 
ery appearance of being a perfect gen- 
tleman, both in dress and actions. I said 
to myself there is no danger of that man 
ever murdering anyone. But in less than 
two years from that time I read an ac- 
count in the papers of a man being mur- 
dered by this same quiet-looking Hat- 
field. But time mellows all things. I 



have since read of the two noted fami- 
lies intermarrying and thereby modify- 
ing the feud between the world re- 
nowned Hatfields and McCoys. 

I never in my 32 years of organizing 
lodges met but two editors of newspa- 
pers who refused to publish the list of 
officers of my newly organized lodges. 
The first was a Pennsylvania editor, a 
U. P. preacher, by the way. Secret so- 
cieties were not to his liking. The other 
was a McCoy, of West Virginia. He was 
a lawyer, editor, owner of a big oil farm 
and a trustee of the Presbyterian church. 
It was not because of religious scruples 
that he refused the publication of the 
list of officers, but he felt that it was 
"paid matter." He did not seem to know 
that editors in general are very much 
pleased to have items of local news of 
that character. Often the managers of 
daily papers in large cities have sent 
their newsgatherers to the ante room of 
the lodge rooms with orders to stay un- 
til the list of officers could be obtained. 
I have had them wait two hours before 
the installation of officers was finished. 

The first locomotive that I saw run- 
ning along a track was in the state of 
Ohio. I was on a lumber raft, lazily 
floating down the Ohio river, when we 
met an engine, with no coaches attached, 
coming up the river, on the Ohio side. 
It was a sight for our up-the-AUegheny 
river eyes, and I also actually had my 
first ride on steam propelled cars on the 
same side of that same river. After 
landing our "Ohio fleet" at Cincinnati, 
and staying as a watchman on the raft 
until my employer, the late Eben G. 
Mead, than whom no better man ran 
lumber to the lower markets, sold and 
delivered his raft, I got into a coach and 
took my first railroad ride to Cleveland, 
O., then on a lake boat to Dunkirk, N. Y., 
then in a stage coach to Jamestown, N. 
Y., and "footed it" across the line into 
the Keystone state, 18 miles, to my home 
in Youngsville, Pa. Was not that going 
around the bush some, if not more? 

I have mentioned the down-the-river 
people learning how to land a raft with 
a long rope. Let me just mention the 
beauties of this long rope business on 
the rafting trip just described. After 
we landed this big Ohio raft, I took up 
my abode in the raft shanty until the 
raft was sold. One nice warm day dur- 
ing the first half of the month of May, 
I laid my sleepy head on the straw pil- 
low in the raft shanty and was soon in 
the land of dreams. The river was very 
high, over its banks in many places. 
My dreams came to an end very sud- 
denly when four Clarion timber rafts, 
owned by Mr. Ford, of Ridgway, Pa., 
broke their cables and came down against 
my raft with a crash that broke my 
cables and sent me down towards Cin- 



OLD TIMES IN 01 LOOM. 



77 



cinnati. I was "monarch of all I sur- 
. veyed," sailing down into the heart of 
the city on a very large "Ohio fleet," 
•with no one to boss me and thousands 
of feet of square timber floating after 
me. Now comes in the long rope busi- 
ness. Wlien the raft had made about 
two miles toward Poriiopolis, I saw two 
men jump into a skiff and row towards 
me. I first thought that they intended 
to take me to shore. But I soon found 
that they had a better object in view. 
They rowed vigorously until they reached 
the side of my runaway raft. They then 
asked me for the privilege of landing 
the raft. The reader may guess that 
the privilege was instantly granted. 
They then, with my help, lifted a coil 
of rope, 900 feet long, one and one half 
inches in diameter, and carried it onto 
the raft. Next one of the men took hold 
of one end of the rope and got into the 
skift: and the other rowed him to shore, 
and while the man with the rope took a 
half-hitch around a big plum tree, the 
other man rowed back to the raft and 
took a hitch on the raft snubbing post, 
and played out the 900 feet of rope, 
bringing the big raft to shore, safe and 
sound. I felt like the passengers who 
offered prayers and thanked Marconi 
when the big vessel went down recently, 
when the wireless telegraphy saved 1,650 
lives. These two men will always have 
my best wishes. Their act, thr next day, 
when Mr. Mead called to pay them for 
the job, proved them to be fair-minded 
indeed. Their charge was only $10. Mr. 
Mead expected to pay about $100, as 
their work saved him over $1,000. If 
not for getting that raft landed above 
Cincinnati, where it was sold, it would 
have gone below the city, and would 
have been sold for a much less price 
than it was already sold for at Cincin- 
na... Mr. Ford's timber went on below 
the city and he afterwards informed me 
that he lost $6,000 by the breaking of 
his ropes. His rafts were towed ashore 
by tugboats after they had passed the 
city, where they were sold. 

This rafting w-as a peculiar business. 
One instance is worth mentioning on this 
trip. On the Ohio river we ran night and 
day. Not so on the Allegheny river. 
There were too many island- and bars 
and crooks. It required daylight to navi- 
gate it safely. Sometimes when the water 
was falling or when the pilot failed to 
make a landing in a safe eddy he was 
obliged to run all night and it was re- 
markable the small number of mishaps 
that did take place. When we take into 
consideration the large number of rafts 
that passed Oil City every rise of the 
vrater it fills one with wonder that so 
few raft? were wrecked. AVhy, the old 
inhabitants of Oil City can recollect the 
time that they could stand on the bank 
of the river all day and never be out of 



.sight of rafts either opposite or up or 
down the stream. 

The description in the Derrick recently 
of the lights of Oil City at night re- 
minaed me of tlie Pan-American show at 
Buffalo a few years ago. And it also re- 
minded me of Oil City many years ago. 
Then, instead of tlie glorious blaze of 
light of the present, about all that could 
be seen in the way of illumination was 
a tin lantern, witli holes cut in the sides, 
and a "tallow dip" standing in the bot- 
tom. Tliere was l)ut little difference be- 
tween those old-fashioned lanterns and 
a common sized lightning bug. Why, did 
you ever think that we are 2,000 years 
behind the times? The Bible tells us 
that in A. D. 70, Antioch had street 
lamps, water running in tlie streets and 
into the houses. Once or twice Oil City 
has had water running in tlie streets and 
into the houses, too, and Antioch was 
not "in it" in regard to fire, but Oil City 
was "in it" to a sorrowful degree. Many 
of your old citizens and some younger 
ones will agree with me in this. It is to 
be hoped that the fire fiend will never 
again make such disastrous visits as it 
has done when your beautiful city was 
first springing into its wonderful growth. 
The Derrick recently spoke of John 
Holliday being a pioneer In the ferry 
bu-iness in Oil City.. My next door 
neighbor is John Holliday's son, Thomas, 
and he is a "chip of the old block," in- 
terested at present in the oil business 
between Oil City and Pleasantville. 

Speaking of Pleasantville, reminds mo 
of a little lumber transaction when 
thines were running wild. Very late in 
the fall of that exciting year, when 
Plumer was the terminus of the only 
railroad in sight of Oil City, I landed a 
raft of hemlock derrick lumber at 
Oleopolis, or at the mouth of Pithole 
I creek. I sold the raft to a New York 
j city man who was operating quite ex- 
tensively in the rather prolific Plumer 
oil territory. This man gave me $15 per 
i thousand feet for this lumber. He drew 
! a part of it for his own use and sold part 
' of it to other parties for $60 per thous- 
! and feet, and nearly half of jt floated 
1 off down the river in the great fiood of 
! 1865. I was the only man who did not 
j lose on that raft, and taking out the cost 
j of one day's run. I made one-third on 
my investment. I mention this to show 
I the uncertainties of the lumber business, 
! as well as the oil business. And while 
: talking of lumber, let me make the rc- 
I mark that something like dreariness 
! comes over me when my mind wanders 
' back to rafting times, when water float- 
ed tht- lumber to market instead of 
! steam pulling it on wheels. Tlie beau- 
i tiful green pines have been cut down 
i and are gone, and nearly all the sturdy 
1 axe-men who cut tlie trees have been 



78 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



overtaken by Old Time and cut down as 
ruthlessly as were the thrifty green 
trees. The places that knew them both 
will know them no more forever. But 
in time the places of the trees will be 



filled with a new growth of flourishing 
trees and the work of these pioneers — • 
good men and true — will live long after 
them. 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 



INTERESTING LETTERS TO THE AUTHOR. 



When I wrote the preceding article of 
"Old Times in Oildom" I thought I had 
finished. But since the publication of 
the first of the articles in "The Der- 
rick" I have received many let- 
ters from the readers of that 
paper, a few of which I would like to 
have printed. One is from a brother of 
the late Charles Dinsmoor, of Warren, 
and who is now an expert botanist, of St. 
Marys, W. Va. The letter explains it- 
self. It does more X\.An explain itself. 
It gives a little insight into the size of 
my feet that might otherwise have re- 
mained a secret, so far as those who 
never saw me are concerned: 

St. Marys, W. Va., June 29, 1909. 
Hon. G. W. Brown, Youngsville, Pa. 

Dear Sir: — Your "Old Times in Oil- 
dom," now running in the Oil City Semi- 
Weekly Derrick, is most intensely inter- 
esting to me. It is barely possible you 
can remember me. I was "head" saw- 
yer at Tiona and cut lots of tank plank 
for you along about 1871, '72 and '73, 
and remember you quite distinctly. You 
frequently gave me directions of the 
kind you wanted. You were then quite 
grey, somewhat stooping and had feet 
nearly as large or larger than President 
Lincoln's. One instance I can recall. 
You were standing near the "edger" in a 
slightly dangerous place. I motioned to 
a young fellow of Irish extraction, di- 
recting him to have you stand in another 
place, as you might get injured. He re- 
plied, "Be jabbers, he Is long enough for 
this wourld," meaning that you were 
"very tall timber," as we denominated 
six-footers. I regret not having had the 
pleasure of "hoeing it down" after your 
"scraping" the "fiddle" and keeping time 
with your No. 10s. 

Many pleasures have come my way in 
the last half hundred years; none that 
surpassed the old-time dances of the 
mill and woods men and women of "Old 
Lang Syne." As you recalled the names 
of leading lumbermen of Warren county, 
a sweet, sad remembrance stole over me 
that I can scarcely shake off yet. I was 
personally acquainted with nearly every- 
one of them. Guess I did my share in 
tearing up the noble wilderness that once 
covered so much of Warren county; per- 



haps sawed as many logs as any young 
man of that period; every piece that 
went into Pleasant bridge at Warren in 
'72; also the timber in Dunkirk, Warren 
& Pittsburg railroad; hundreds of walk- 
ing beams: also stuff that went as far as 
Boston. Came near being a resident of 
Youngsville, with L. B. Wood, but com- 
menced to roam; have since spent 20 
years in the west; have taken the Der- 
rick for 25 years ai, least; have had, and 
still have splendid health; am on "Easy 
street;" have fine children. Was born on 
the very summit of Quaker hill, 
1.900 feet above the Allegheny river; 
was the youngest of 15 chil- 
dren; one only settled in War- 
ren, Charles Dinsmoor, all having crossed 
over except three. Am now living one 
and a quarter miles from the Ohio river, 
550 feet above the same. On my next 
visit to Warren county will make it a 
point to see Youngsville and the "15 
miles of sidewalk." Should you come 
down the Ohio be sure to stop at St. 
Marys. You will have no trouble in find- 
ing Dinsmoors in plenty. 

Sincerely yours, 
G. W. Dinsmoor. 

Another letter from the secretary and 
treasurer of the Oil Men's Association of 
Western Pennsylvania is as follows: 

Butler, Pa.. April 16, 1909. 
Mr. G. W. Brown, 

Youngsville, Pa. 

Dear Sir: — I have been reading your 
reminiscences in the "Derrick" with in- 
terest. These old stories bring up mem- 
ories of the past and are worthy of be- 
ing preserved. 

The Oil Men's association meets this 
year at Conneaut Lake, August 5th, and 
would be glad to entertain you there for 
a couple of days. 

I don't know whether you recall me 
or not, but I remember meeting you 
here several years ago, and like your- 
self, I have been on the Derrick staff for 
a decade or more. 

I remain, with best wishes, 
Your respectfully, 

C. R. Wattson. 
The Oil Men's Association of Western 

Pennsylvania. 



OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 



79 



Another letter is as follows: 

Butler, Pa., May 8, 1909. 
Hon. G. W. Brown, 

Youngsville, Pa. 
Dear Sir: — It is these reminiscences 
that the oil people like to go over again. 
Will you kindly send me a photo of 



yourself?. Thanking you for your kind- 
ness in this matter and with best wishes, 
I am. 

Sincerely yours, 

C. R. Wattson, 
National Transit Company, United Pipe 
Lines Division. 




DEC 10 1909 



